


Pregnant Pauses

by ohdrey89



Series: Deductive Deviations [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Discussion of Abortion, Drama, Drama & Romance, Drunk Lestrade, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Greg Lestrade & John Watson Friendship, Multiple Orgasms, Mycroft Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Mycroft IS the British Government, Mycroft To The Rescue, Mycroft's Meddling, Mycroft's Umbrella, POV Multiple, Paternal Lestrade, Pining Greg, Pirate Sherlock, Poor Lestrade, Protective Greg, Separations, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Silver Fox Lestrade, Uncle Mycroft, Uncle Sherlock, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:37:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 75,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3573365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohdrey89/pseuds/ohdrey89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How far would you go in sacrificing your happiness for the one you love? </p><p>Molly Hooper finds out what lengths she would go to, in order to let Greg be free. It's what he wanted isn't it? </p><p>Greg Lestrade, burnt after a divorce, goes to great lengths to prove to Molly how much he really loves her. How long will he be able to hold on before he gives up?</p><p>If they both let go, will they be able to come back together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is back, John and Mary are going to have their baby. Molly and Greg are in love. Everything is at it should be.
> 
> Then Molly gets news she was never expecting. And is absolutely terrified it could destroy her world and her happiness. And, no, it has nothing to with Moriarty.
> 
> She does the only thing she can do, she runs... Runs for her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This popped into my head and I had to write it down. 
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

Positive [ _4 weeks_ ]

\----…----…----…----

 

"P-Pregnant?" Molly stuttered, her wide brown eyes getting larger. That was the first word Molly had uttered since she had been told her the news of her being pregnant… ten minutes ago. In that time, her boss had made tea for her, and checked her pulse twice. The poor pathologist was in shock.

Mike Stamford, her increasingly concerned mentor, friend and boss, put a comforting hand on Molly's shoulder. It had been a while since she had been feeling like herself and she had been worried she caught a bug. Not that it mattered when working with the stiffs, but hospital policy was to not come into the hospital spreading germs to all of the patients that were still alive. When she told Mike, he offered to be her doctor and gave her a checkup, before they left work. He had ran a blood test out of pure routine, he never imagined...

When he saw the results, he ran them again and got the same positive result staring back at him glaringly bright, the truth unavoidable. Molly had known something was suspect when he repeated the tests again. He remembered, in reflection, the night Nora found out about Zöe, their eldest. She had been so nervous, thinking he might not want the baby. Two girls later, he had the best gift in the world that Nora could ever have given him. He wouldn't have it any other way when they looked to him and smiled, screamed in joy when he came home, or gave him pictures drawn in scratchy crayon. But Molly was single, and alone. It would be a Herculean task with no one to share the burden. Not that children were a burden, but raising babies is, no matter what people like to tell you. Most people that had children, really shouldn’t have done so in the first place. Stamford had seen that, even in his girls’ classes more times than he would like to admit. At the very least it would be nice to have someone share the responsibility some of the time. He couldn't imagine who the father could be. He didn‘t ask about her life, and she didn‘t talk about it. He knew about her crush on Sherlock, the mysterious Jim from IT, but other than that nothing, at least nothing Molly would share herself. "I ran it twice Molly, it's positive. Do you know who the father is?" He didn't want to sound like such a prat but if she didn't want the baby they would have to make arrangements. As her boss, Mike wanted to know the state of her mind.

"No... I can't be. I can‘t-" Molly looked to Mike for help, anything to prove it wasn't true.

"I'm afraid you are, Molls." That nickname caused Molly to wince. Reminding her of whose fault half of this was… technically.

"Greg... H-he'll be so upset. I told him the IUD was enough." Molly felt tears welling up, then squeezed her eyes shut. No, no. Not in front of Mike, anything but that. She remembered the night it happened too just a little over four weeks ago, they were in-between condom boxes and it was too late to go to Tesco’s. Well, more like she had been desperate and wouldn’t let him leave. At the time, it just didn’t make sense since she had the IUD put in for that reason. They both agreed and now this was the result. It should have been enough. Molly avoided Mike’s gaze as the man’s eyes bugged out, he drank regularly with John and also Greg if they were watching rugby or football at the pub, the man had never mentioned that the two of them were even together. Now Molly, his star pupil and now star colleague, was pregnant by him. Well this was turning into quite the little mess.

"I'm sure he won't be, Greg’s a good guy, already has kids, loves kids, and you know Molly there's nothing certain about contraception." Mike gave her a look, she was a doctor and she couldn't be that naive.

"He will, he doesn't want kids- his ex-wife. They already- He doesn't want any more- not with me- I- wh-what am I going to do?" Molly looked about the room, completely lost. Her comforting lab wasn't offering her any relief. It was now filled with memories and only reminded her now of stolen kisses from Greg when no one was looking; tender, sweet ones, that made her feel wanted, and hot ones dripping from his mouth like honey, oozing of later promises. Of that one time, when she was working a night shift - and he had come close to dying, well not dying but it had been a closer shave than he had seen in a long time while chasing after Sherlock and John - that he bent her over her desk in her office, didn‘t stop eating her out until he cracked open her chest, and left nothing but his love inside. Then he slid into her and didn‘t stop until it was just past the point of oversensitive and on the edge of painful, and couldn’t keep himself together anymore. He allowed himself to be vulnerable, whispering of his love for her into the dim light of the lab and Molly had sold her soul to him that night. Her whole life screamed of Lestrade now, his presence and how good he felt against her were deafening, blaring in her ears like her headphones during morning runs. The man was branded deep under her skin and there was nothing getting him out.

They had talked one night in her bed, a few months before their night of conception, after Sherlock returned and Greg had learned her part in his escape from death. They had fought, Lestrade wondered why she kept the secret from him for so long, his trust issues and paranoia throwing up warning signs. Molly explained that like everyone else, when Sherlock says to do something, you do it. He was always right, and they all believed in him. There had been yelling and tears, then finally the amazing make up sex, and they talked until dawn. He was devastating and so beautiful, the way he smiled and looked to her filled her chest with a soft flutter feeling like the dawn light that was filtering into her bedroom. She had casually asked about marriage and kids. She was in love, he loved her, in her mind it appeared to be a natural progression of where things had been going. He said, calmly, voice gruff as he attempted to talk even though he was half asleep and with no hesitation like he was reconsidering, that he loved her but was too beaten up from his ex to think about that whole song and dance again. Molly had laughed it off and tried to remember how her throat worked. It all sounded so final, finality surer than gravity. She never had any expectations for how her life would turn out, but this felt so absolute. No room for error, like brain surgery. Like if anything would happen to combat that, she was sure Lestrade would leave without looking back. She wondered if he felt the change in the atmosphere of the room like she had, a weathervane in a sudden gust. She had gotten up for some water, he had fallen asleep, and she decided as he had reached out for her in his sleep without waking that she didn't want a life without him in it. Marriage and kids had always been an abstract idea, a societal norm that beat on the door of her biological clock. So until now, it had been enough, he was more than enough. Molly knew that without him in her life, it wouldn’t amount to much. Thinking about that night made her stomach lurch, now she was pregnant. She felt claustrophobic.

"Talk to him." Mike encouraged her to be honest, at the very least. Let Greg decide for himself, if he didn’t want to have a family with Molly, the best person he could think of to start a new family, then Greg doesn’t deserve her and was a berk. But that still left Molly without someone to help raise their child. "Nora told me and now we have Zöe and Ella. You might be surprised by his response." Mike watched Molly bite her lip like she did when she knew Mike was saying or doing something wrong but didn't want to correct her boss. "Or you could always..." He let the sentence hang onto the air, the unfinished thought creeping into the space between mentor and pupil.

"No I can't! I couldn't! I couldn't do that! Not again-I mean- I did once..." Mike's eyebrows shot up into his receding hairline. "It was university and Dad had just died. I was alone and stupid enough to think the guy liked me and then he never called. I-I didn't even process it at the time. All I wanted was to go back to class- there wasn't any room in my life..." She didn't tell Mike how awful it had been for her. She didn't have any sort of friends with reputations for reliability so she had gone alone. Didn’t have any friends really. It was a Friday, and by Monday it was like nothing had happened. She finished her degree, worked hard, got a job she finally loved, and found herself feeling that same trepidation again.

"And what about now?" Mike questioned. Knowing this baby was Greg's and how much she loved him, everything was different and he knew how this could be a great deal scarier than before.

"I can't get rid of it, it’s ours and I- I want it. It m-might be all I’ll have left of him. But I- I know what Greg will say..." Molly sighed. She'll lose the one bit of happiness she had in a while. Why whenever she was happy did it have to be ripped away from her? She couldn’t face this hurt again. The loneliness… Now she wanted to be anywhere else but here in the morgue. Molly moved to get up but Mike stopped her and put her back down onto the stool she tried to rise from.

“I’m not going to let you leave here.” Mike said firmly, she wasn’t thinking clearly. She’d either go home now and make some rash decision like abandon everything she had going for her in her life right now, or she’d go into the morgue and make some sort of error in her work and stall her career. Either result was not happening on his watch. Also at the very least, Greg had the right to know.

“Please. Mike. I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t stay- can’t see the look on his face- watch him leave me. I can take a sabbatical, something- I don’t care what it is, just put it down on paper and only you and I will know- Just until the baby is born and I-I’ll be able to get my head in order and…figure this all out. Figure out a way to tell Greg. Once the baby comes, I‘ll be right back here working again.” Molly pleaded with him, there had to be something, a way for her to escape, just for now.

“I don’t like this. Greg has a right to know.” Mike grumbled as a father of two little girls, if he hadn’t known… That cut somewhere close to where his heart laid, leaning on the lab table, his head hanging. He should have known she would try to run away. Molly could do just about anything for anyone else but when it came to facing the hard stuff in her own life, she froze. Even here in the morgue, she struggled with the harder cases.

“I just- I can’t. Please, Mike, I can’t do this, not now. I can’t face him knowing that he might not want this baby. Or me- I want to have it, and I want him.“ Molly took a breath and exhaled a sob. “Right now I know I can’t have both those things. And I don’t want to see his face when I tell him. I can’t live with that. Please.” Molly looked into his eyes with a haunted expression Mike had never seen before. What could have Greg possibly have said to make Molly doubt him like this? Now that he thought about it, Mike had seen the way the man looked at the pathologist before, it wasn’t subtle. How could Molly not see the man would do anything for her? It wasn’t his business, even if he didn’t like it, he would do as Molly asked.

Mike finally nodded his acquiescence. Anything else felt too permanent. He was doing this begrudgingly, but she would do the same thing for him, did even more for Sherlock, and now she was relying on him. As a friend, it didn’t matter what was right or what was wrong. Maybe it was foolish, or maybe his moral compass didn’t point in the direction of true good, what mattered was what she was asking of him. Molly sighed in relief, knowing that Mike was on her side right now.

“There’s an abused women’s center in Hastings. An old friend of mine, went to university together, is running it and is looking for someone from London, with more experience in emergencies to help with cases that come in.” Stamford looked to her to argue. She might work with post mortems but she still had enough knowledge to handle these cases. He also hoped in the time that she would be there, it might show her how lucky she was. Greg wasn’t a bad guy, and if they talked, actually talked about this, she would see that he loved her, that he might actually want this with her. “Sea air, nice little village, you can still work, and I can explain the situation so that if our resident consulting clod comes looking for you it will be like you’re just one of the women there and my friend will keep your privacy. And you can work as a thank you.” Mike smiled. And chuckled when Molly’s arms came around him, squeezing in gratitude. That was Mike Stamford, a friend you could always count on.

“How soon?” Molly wondered, the sooner she got out of London the better. The longer she remained here the more likely it was that she would tell him.

“I’ll call them, she’ll probably be ready for you tonight. She and her husband always complain about being short handed. They run the center together. What about your flat?” Mike wondered. It was all happening too quickly. He had thrown out the option thinking she wouldn’t take it and would think about it. Molly saw this all line up for her. Ducks in a row. It all seemed so easy. Right when she needed it.

“A friend of mine was looking to live with me for a few months. I have that spare room. I’ll see if she wouldn’t mind subletting until I get back. She’ll probably be thrilled. Gives her plenty of time to settle in, and even plenty of warning to find her own place.” Molly sent the text. The excited reply came back almost instantaneously. And with one last shared glance from Mike she left to pack her bags. Mike would text her the address of his friend and her husband. Doctors Brian Jacob and Stacey Howe, they were delighted to have her, anticipating her arrival and she would take a cab to the train station, where BJ would pick her up when she arrived in Hastings. She called her friend, who would move in at the end of the week and told the very grateful friend where she could find the spare key. Mike and Dr. Patil would take over for her in her absence, and as far as the hospital knew she was going to be on a research sabbatical. In a matter of hours, it was all arranged.

A knock on her door signaled the cab had arrived, in the time that it took her buy extra supplies for Toby - luckily Jessa had no aversions to cats, was fine taking care of him until she got back and she had visited before so Molly knew Toby would like her - and to pack her bags. There wasn’t much to pack, she’d need to buy looser fitting clothes once in Hastings, her own would soon be too small. She gave Toby a cuddle, he mewed in response, sensing that his familiar was leaving and wouldn’t be returning for a long while. This wasn’t fair, he didn’t want her to go, not when her smell had suspiciously changed. She needed his protecting. Molly dislodged herself from Toby before she could feel the regret sink in at having to leave him. It was time for her to go. Being without Toby would be very painful but she needed to do it, and she didn‘t want Toby to get out while she was in Hastings.

A text had come from Greg, looking to come over, reluctantly she replied the only way she knew she could without saying goodbye. It hurt a little, who was she fooling, she felt like her chest was hollow and caving in, but she knew it had to be done. She rubbed her flat stomach that would soon be great with a baby, their baby, the reminder that the child was their’s caused her eyes to sting. Greg deserved to have the life he wanted and she couldn’t give that to him if she tied him down with a baby, made him feel responsible for herself and the child. Now he would have all the time in the world to move on and find someone else. This was the right thing to do. They would both find peace if she removed herself, what she wanted, from the equation. Molly would let him go. Molly squared her shoulders, determined that this was right. She typed the words slowly as the taxi weaved easily through the London traffic. She hit send like you would pull off a plaster, quick, only a sharp hiss of pain and then it was over. She clicked the power button so that the phone would lock, put it on the seat next to her, and turned away from it. She said goodbye to London with a tear rolling down her cheek. She would have to get another phone, a number she could use that Greg would never get. She pretended not to notice the incessant ping and vibrations of multiple messages coming in, responding desperately to her single note.

_I can’t stay here, I’m sorry Greg. If you’ve started seeing other people when I get back, I’ll understand. - Molly_

Just like that, Molly left her life and London behind…

 

\----…----…----…----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will be fairly dramatic - I know sooo different from what I usually write - but I wanted to write this as a sort of way to work on things like my dialogue, and creating modern fiction instead of staying in my happy place which is all decades between Jane Austen and Ford Madox Ford/John Galsworthy. Sorry to everyone who I know I still owe one shots to, I'll be writing those and posting them soon I hope, probably in the midst of posting all of this. 
> 
> It will be a multi-chap story so strap in and hang on for this ride. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	2. One Month

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly is far away from home. From Greg. From the Morgue. From everything she's known. 
> 
> And no one likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait until further into the week to post this next chapter, but alas I was bored on a Sunday. No one really likes Sundays, the Doctor never lands on a Sunday.
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _8 weeks_ ]

\----…----…----…----

 

Sherlock lasted about one month.

Two months into the pregnancy no one knew about… except Molly and a tight-lipped Mike Stamford.

Sherlock came into the lab Monday after Molly left and had the predictable strop at finding his favorite, easily malleable pathologist had up and left without saying anything, to anyone. Sherlock had come back from his eighteen month disappearance thanks to her and felt he was owed more than that. That their friendship was worth more than this, even though that was precisely what he had done to John, Greg, Mrs. Hudson. He had done it all for a reason, Molly had done this with no explanation at all. Even in the worse scenario, Sherlock wouldn’t have done that, not to Molly. Between himself and Molly trust was absolute, beyond the trust you could claim you would have with a lover. This was the trust that went beyond bond, when you put your life into someone’s hands. He would have kept her secret, whatever it was, apparently like what Mike Stamford was doing to them now watching the man avoid Sherlock‘s keen gaze. When Lestrade came for the medical report, Sherlock questioned him, shocked when the man painfully confirmed Mike’s word.

Sherlock tried anything to get Stamford to say where she went, even John tried, but Mike was mum. This was entirely ridiculous and frustrating. If there was something wrong, he could fix it. If he could talk to her, he’d convince her into coming back here. Whatever it was, it could be dealt with. Greg was off, miserable, short with Sherlock, when on his worst day he wouldn’t have treated Sherlock like that, no matter what Sherlock said or did, everything felt wrong. _Wrong. Wrong. Wrong._ Wrong and it was glaring at him so much so that he couldn’t think, couldn’t see. It didn’t matter that there was a case if Molly wasn’t here. Without her help, he couldn’t work. Once again the work was being compromised because of sentiment.

Mike sympathized but he wouldn’t tell Sherlock what happened. He convinced the consulting detective to work, Molly wouldn’t want the work to suffer without her there. He seemed nervous, but knew how to keep things from the detective, and Sherlock definitely couldn’t deduce anything from Stamford about Molly. All the evidence of the situation Mike had long ago disposed of, knowing Sherlock would pry. For once, it wasn’t his business, and he didn’t have the right to know. If Molly wanted Sherlock to know, she would tell him in her own time. When he had threatened to go to Mycroft, who could probably find her within half a day, Stamford threatened to bar him from the lab and call the police if he went anywhere near Bart’s, until Molly decided to return from wherever she was hiding. Touche.

Sherlock backed off, completely against his will. Stamford assured him that he would still have access, but it just wasn’t the same without Molly. John tried to pacify him unnecessarily, ridiculous. Stamford was smug, thinking he won for now. Sherlock was just in retreat, he would find out another way. Talk to whoever he needed to, put the pieces together and then he would find Molly.

In the time between then and now, Stamford was tolerable at best and allowed Sherlock access to the labs up to a point. But being the head of the morgue lead him to follow the rules more than Molly would. Much to Sherlock’s endless frustration. (He wouldn’t even discuss Dr. Patil. If he did, he might just get angry. That would get him thrown out of the lab, and right now he was in the middle of a case and needed the access. Dr. Patil did a good impression of Anderson on a regular basis and it was worse since they let him have access to a lab and dead bodies.) If a couple of body parts ended up missing, well, Sherlock wouldn’t have needed a reason. Molly would just look the other way, and Stamford would look the other way for Molly’s sake. He couldn’t explain why he needed eyes to microwave them, or a severed head as John reminded him again. That was one time! But still you never know when you needed another one, there were always more experiments to run. He needed a few knee caps to test the tensile strength and shattering pattern of the patella. Stamford didn’t understand the reason why, and Sherlock didn’t want to explain himself. It was for a case, not one he was working on right now, but you never knew when you needed the data. This wasn’t right, now that he was back, he didn’t want his family to fall apart again. That’s exactly what was happening.

All Stamford said was that she was on sabbatical. Sherlock knew immediately the man was lying. If she was she would have said where she was going, told them all, Greg would have gone with her and there would be more of a record of it than just her being on sabbatical. That wasn’t good enough, not nearly good enough for Sherlock. John warned him to just accept it and let it go, but really this is Sherlock we’re talking about.

While he was supposed to be on a case, much to the consternation of John and especially Greg - who didn’t need a reminder that Molly wasn’t in London - Sherlock would shout deductions about where she could be instead of focusing on the work. He pointed out that Greg knew something about where she went, Greg explained that he only knew that her flat and Toby were being looked after by a friend. Then Sherlock demanded an explanation. He could have just broken into her flat but didn’t have the time right now.

When Greg went to her flat after work - after that dreadful weekend in which he sent more texts than he can actually remember and never got a response - a friend of hers, Jessa, answered the door saying that she was subletting the place until Molly got back, and watching Toby, which caused Greg concern. Molly would never leave Toby. Not unless it was because of something serious, something dire, or even worse, something dangerous. When he asked how long Molly would be away, she lied and said she wasn’t sure. Greg could tell that much. Jessa wasn’t sure either that Greg didn’t know she was lying. Molly warned her that there would be people asking, and she wasn’t allowed to say unless she wanted Molly to kick her out. Molly’s place was too nice and Toby and her were getting along. Sherlock could deduce that the detective inspector wasn’t sleeping at night, too used to being by Molly’s side most of the week and was brooding over a bottle of whiskey at night instead judging by his red eyes. A drunken stupor really wasn’t a good substitute for a good night’s sleep. When they had finished up at the crime scene, John invited him out to their favorite pub that night, knowing the case wouldn‘t take that long as Sherlock declared it under a five.

Normally, Sherlock wouldn’t have stirred out of doors for anything under a six. But with Molly missing, Sherlock needed the distraction.

 

\----

 

Sherlock had been right and the mates met up just after eight once Lestrade had finished with the ruddy paperwork. It took a while, and quite a few pints before Greg begrudgingly took out his phone and opened up Molly’s messages to show his friend. John sighed as he read the text she sent and all of the subsequent frustrated, angry, weepy, desperate, clingy, and unfortunate texts that his miserable love-sick friend sent after. She either couldn’t, or wouldn’t respond. Lestrade had been sending regular texts daily after that. Eventually the texts got a response that the number was temporarily disconnected and that‘s when Greg stopped sending her messages. John’s lips thinned when he got to that part. He was angry at her, Molly of all people. He had accepted her role in Sherlock’s disappearing act, he had been bitter, but he accepted it. Now she disappeared, and hurt Greg by doing it. There was no excuse for this. This wasn’t typical Molly behavior. She cared, she would go the extra mile for just about anyone if they asked it of her. For her to do this to all of them, especially Greg - who was drooping into his fourth pint rather sadly - it just didn’t make sense. And John’s anger was brewing, itching to shout some sense into her.

“Wha am I gon’ do, eh?” Greg moped, his words slurring as he propped up his face against the heel of his hand. The downward pull of gravity was too much for his drunk, swimming head. “I’m completely ruined. I love her, and sshe’sleft me. Jus’ like me wife.” Greg laughed derisively against a drunken belch at himself and John smiled at him sadly. Poor sod. “Exx-swife.”

“Maybe you can, ya know, date someone else, mate. Plenty o’ fish in the sea.” John belched, tasting beer. Maybe he was getting too old for the sad bachelor’s lament at the pub.

“Dun’ want anyone elsse. Molly, she’s… She’s perfect! That Molly. My Molls. Why’d she leave me, Jawn?” Greg asked him this question with more frequency the further they got on. The barman looked to the both of them, seeing if he should finally cut them off.

“I dunno, mate. She’s left all of us, but Mike says she’ll be back.” A hiccup this time. “If he says she will, then she will. Mike wouldn’t lie to us about that.” John smiled encouragingly, even if he wasn‘t sure of that himself. Greg nodded, trying not to cry into his brew. Why would she leave and not talk to him? Greg just didn’t understand it. Even in his drunken haze, he couldn’t see the sense in any of it.

 

\----

 

John had poured Greg into his taxi and the taxi driver had been kind, pouring Greg into his flat promptly at half past eleven. It wasn’t difficult, Lestrade didn’t put up much of a fight. He didn’t put up much of a fight for anything now that Molly wasn’t here. There was no reason to fight.

He had been laid down on his couch by the driver and slowly sat up once he realized that he was horizontal and not vertical. Greg rubbed his face looking at the ceiling of his flat, white, cracked, boring. He looked around his flat, seeing Molly in odd little places, and then the usual blah nothing that had inhabited his life since he found this place after the divorce. He rose from the couch, using the coffee table for balance and slowly stumbled his was into his kitchen, digging out a glass from a cabinet and some ice and found a whiskey bottle where he was keeping a stash.

He came back to the couch and laid down the bottle and iced glass. He opened up his phone and began his now nightly ritual: stare at his photos of Molly and get piss drunk until it all stopped hurting. He had many, mostly ones she’d never find out about, painting her toenails in nothing but a little bath towel, of her sleeping, dancing to music in the kitchen, snuggling with Toby while napping, biting her lip while reading. So many moments, so many times he realized how much he was in love with Molly. Now each picture was a stab at his heart. Where was his Molls? Why had she left him? At least with his ex-wife he had anger, anger was easy. Anger numbed, allowed him not to feel. Molly left his heart open and gaping, a raw wound, and the only thing to numb the pain was the whiskey he now poured into the chilled glass with a bitter expression marring his mouth. What a sight he must be right now, pathetic bastard. His eyes were burning, from drink, and from trying not to cry.

It wasn’t long into his third glass before his head couldn’t hold himself upward anymore, and his eyelids couldn’t stay open, huh, he thought as he ran his thumb along the edge of Molly’s face in the photo, the identical photo that was also the background on Molly’s phone, he usually made it through about two thirds of the bottle before now. Greg passed out, his drunken snoring the only company to be found in the lonely flat. The screen on his phone went dark as Greg slipped into blessed unconsciousness.

 

\----

 

Four weeks. Molly was counting. A very painful four weeks since she left and all she could think about was Greg. Should she tell him? Was this still a good idea? What reaction would he have when she came back with a baby, and tell him it was his? Was it going to be a boy or a girl? What would she do once she got back? Would everyone hate her? Would she be able to continue her work and raise a child? How would she even do that? These thoughts tormented her while she looked after these poor women. Poor women that really didn’t need her to think of them as “these poor women” but how could she not when they came here with so little of everything, belongings, money, even hope. Yet still they would rebuild their lives and live again which was probably more than she could say for herself, she had ran away. Still she could live with that, it was better than knowing that Greg wouldn’t love her anymore when he found out. For now she could live with that.

All of the stories of these women were equally as tragic and awful, yet they had so much strength and pride that they never asked for sympathy, only help. They had many a good reason to run, sometimes the abusers came to the center looking for them and were really awful, but here she was running out of cowardice. She had people that loved her and cared, these women either didn’t or were too afraid of hurting their families by going to them. At least Hastings was rather nice, the ocean a small comfort to both her and them, and afforded these women an escape from the abuse they had experienced in other parts of the UK.

BJ and Stacey, as they begged her to call them, were a lovely couple. They were BJ and Stacey to all the women here, it was much easier than trying to tell which Dr. Howe they were speaking about. Stacey was a plump blond woman with a round, friendly face that was never anything but kind and sincere in that kindness, with bright, jade green eyes. Brian Jacob, BJ, was a handsome, wiry, more bean stalk than actual man, Irishman with black hair and vivid blue eyes. He was desperately in love with his wife, and she came in every morning blushing like she knew a secret no one else knew. They had a son Steve who was currently away at school, and was due back for Christmas. Molly would meet their wonderful lad then. Molly had stayed with the happy couple for a week, before their happiness became too much. Unfortunately, it was just as suffocating as Molly found it adorably sweet.

Stacey was the director of the facility, and BJ worked with the women one on one, seeing to the care of women as they came to the center and making sure that all of them stayed until they could take care of themselves, their children if they had them or would have them, and had a safe place to go once they left the center that was as far away from their abuser as possible. When Molly asked why they did all of this, Stacey and BJ became very serious and she said quickly that her mother had been one of those women, and that she remembered the home her mother stayed at vaguely. She had been four at the time. It was a very rundown place and barely functioned and the government was of little to no help. Things had changed a great deal since then and now they were able to provide for these women. But Stacey had always wanted to grow up to care for women like her mother, and give them a safe, healthy place to stay so that they didn’t feel as alone as her mother had felt. It had been her dream to give other abused women better treatment than her mother had received. It was a noble cause, and Molly was more than happy to assist them. She acclimated to her duties tolerably, for being a doctor of dead people. It was mostly routine first aid and being there to be a shoulder to cry on. Stacey and BJ were grateful for the help, even though they both knew vaguely why she was there, and that she would eventually leave once she delivered her child.

Stacey made sure Molly attended all of the same classes as the other expectant mothers. The woman even kept track of Molly’s appointments and all of the vitamins she needed to take and when. Molly didn’t know who was more excited about the pregnancy Stacey or BJ. It certainly wasn’t her. At the moment she didn’t know what to feel about this pregnancy, accept hateful at the fact that she couldn’t keep anything down until well after noon and still was plagued by nausea during the rest of the day even though she tried to eat right. If there were moments where Molly was crying in the atrium of the center, Stacey wouldn’t comment. She would just get Molly’s attention, Molly would wipe at her eyes, and neither of them would acknowledge it. This worked and appealed to Molly. Molly would see to these women and in helping them, maybe she would be able to see a way through her own problems as well. All of these people were so lovely, but she never felt so alone, yearning for home. For London. For Bart’s. For Toby. For Greg.

There wasn’t any place to stay in Hastings, the hotel was always booked, but Stacey was able to secure a place finally with a neighbor who had a spare room, Gladys Lowell. She was a very capable, very stubborn thin, older woman, who kept sheep, with a long braid of grey hair down her back, and had faded brown eyes that could see into you as much as they looked like they had seen it all. She inexplicably recognized right away that Molly was expecting, when she denied Molly’s help with carrying feed to the sheep. When Molly asked how she knew, the elder woman groused that she had seen many a poor girl at the facility hold themselves the way she did, hand over her stomach. Also Molly sat down too cautiously, like she was watching out for something. When the wise woman inquired why Molly was out here alone, when she didn’t seem to be “a poor, battered lass” as the woman put it, Molly swiftly changed the subject. Gladys left it alone for the time being, knowing Molly would tell her in her own time. The room was comfortable, Gladys was decent company, reminded her of her own grandmother and if she tried hard enough, Molly could forget that she had a life somewhere else that she was missing.

If Gladys caught her new renter crying by the stables, or on the bench in the garden, she would blame it on the sea air. Gladys never explained that she had been the director of the center that Stacey’s mother had ran away to, eventually starting this center with Stacey herself before retiring, but Molly hadn’t asked. She would eventually. Just like Molly would eventually tell the older woman what was wrong. In the meantime, Gladys kept her head down and fed her sheep. And Molly would smile gratefully in the morning, when Gladys made nothing that could produce a noxious smell and plied her gently with weak tea and dry toast.

These people didn’t know her. They had no reason to help her, they just did. And she would forever be grateful for it.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you're awake, enjoy this installment. If you get this in the morning, hope this helps you through your Monday crawl. I hate Mondays. Updates always make the day go by a little quicker. Until I get home and there's the promise of Top Gear. 
> 
> Hope you're liking the story so far. Let me know what you all are thinking!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	3. Two Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time, Molly sees her child, and the fact that her life is going to change becomes real.
> 
> Sherlock can't focus, so John finds out what he can about Molly's whereabouts from the only person that knows everything. 
> 
> What will John do once he finds out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have this story completely written and I can't hold back the updates. 
> 
> Hope this helps you all with the rest of your week!
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _12 weeks_ ]

 

\----…----…----…----

 

It was true enough that Molly had put off the first ultrasound until now. Avoided it, in fact, but she had a working knowledge of obstetrics to know the later she waited the better developed the baby would be on the ultrasound. Not quite soon enough for determining the gender, but she could see the baby instead of only seeing a little heart blip. Avoidance because it hurt, seeing the baby so that it really sunk in. She had a decent early baby bump by now, just showing. Stacey excitedly took her out to shop for looser pants that would stretch, flattering but breathable shirts, bigger lingerie and comfy skirts that stretched.

When her friend realized that Molly was putting off her ultrasound, she marched Molly into an ultrasound room and did it herself. Molly watched with tears in her eyes. She wouldn’t say who the father was, or how she herself felt about all this and doing it alone. Still, frustratingly, Stacey puzzled to herself about how the quiet woman would still not open up about why she was here. And Mike wouldn’t tell BJ or her anything other than Molly being pregnant, needing a place to go, and that she had the skills to help them. The experienced couple assumed the worst, and Stacey wished Molly would confide in her. Seeing how they could all be trusted here in the center. Molly knew Stacey was waiting for something, anything. But she couldn’t talk about it, not yet. Not when there were so many more women deserving of their time, with more justified problems.

So instead Molly just held Stacey’s hand and took a breath against the lump in her throat. She tried not to listen to her heart begging for Greg to be here by her side, to watch the black and white alien on the screen dance with her. She listened to the hopeful heart thrum echoing from the ultrasound speakers instead and gave a small smile to answer Stacy’s big one. She was going to be a mother, and what she wanted now didn’t matter, she would do what was best for this child.

Other than being forced into maternity care by her very observant and stubborn bosses, Molly kept herself occupied. Being occupied kept her from thinking of Greg, Sherlock, lunches with Mary, London, everything of her life while she was here. Giving care to these women was certainly enough to keep her attention. Sometimes it was treating them as they crashed into the doors at any time of day or night, other times it was just being someone to talk to, someone that cared. The stories these women told her sometimes were overwhelming. Being trapped in the back of trucks, vans, trunks of cars, being tied to radiators, being given illegal drugs in exchange for sex, silence, and even having them forced into them against their will to keep them unconscious and compliant. Others ran away to keep their children safe from the same fate they suffered as well. Most of them had signs of sexual abuse, and all of them would carry these kind of scars for the rest of their life. If they had family that loved them, they felt too much pride to go back to them, or too much shame. Others were kicked out by their families, and this was the consequence of being too young or too trusting, or worse too in love to see until it was too late. Those stories hurt the most, making her think of Greg, if she hadn’t compromised and stated her wants, she might’ve avoided this pain entirely.

In reality she should feel lucky, she had Greg, for now. And at the very least had Mike and Nora, Sherlock, John and Mary and Mycroft, even. Well if she really wanted to be honest, especially Mycroft. She couldn’t hide anything from that omniscient man. She knew if anything happened to her while she was here, Mycroft would have black hawk helicopters and half of MI6 here before any bad guy with in three miles of Hastings could sneeze. So she smirked a little when she heard the whir of CCTV cameras following her in and out of the little shops around Hastings and while she was working. One of the first nights she was here it was so obvious she waved to the camera and mouthed “hello Mycroft,” it very promptly changed direction. Not suspect at all. So now he knew as well, but Mycroft would keep her secret, just like they both kept Sherlock’s. She hoped.

She only wondered how long she would have Greg in her life once he knew about the baby. Probably not at all once he saw it. If not because he didn’t want a child, then out of anger at being lied to for so long. And if he found her here, between now and when she gave birth it would be obvious. At least once the baby was born she could pretend a little bit, until the truth came out. Some people would call her a coward, and maybe she was when it came to situations in her own life, not when it came to protecting her family. But she couldn’t lose Greg right in front of her eyes, watch him become cold and lose the little love that he had been growing for her over the months they were together. Once they finally admitted to their feelings for one another after a drunken pub night, after that whole Tom fiasco. She saw the moment he turned away from her happening so many times in her sleep, it almost felt like it already happened. Maybe she was a coward, but she was here now, and went through a great deal of trouble to get here.

Until she had this baby she would stay here and care for these women, it was the least she could do for the way people politely tip-toed around her explaining why she was here, or why she was seen crying every now and then. So Molly set her shoulders and dug into the work, like Sherlock. Right now she pushed everything away. It was only the work that mattered, no more moping about. She wondered, if maybe this place didn’t hold more opportunity for her than just a place to get away, she entertained the idea if maybe she could stay if losing Greg made living the life she had in London so unbearable as the thought seemed to be now.

 

\----…----…----…----

 

“What did you say to her?” Sherlock questioned while he was examining the corpse lying on the side of the Thames. He nodded to John and allowed him to examine the body and double check Sherlock’s own conclusions while Sherlock looked around and investigated the surrounding area for evidence, there never was with river bodies. Bloody water, always so unhelpful washing away valuable data. But there were always bigger details even the Thames couldn’t erase.

“What?” John said looking up, wondering where Sherlock’s mind was.

“Molly, Graham what did you say to her?” Sherlock glared at the detective inspector. “She wouldn’t have left because of me, she doesn’t care what I say to her anymore, so the only explanation is you. I’ll ask you again. What did you say?” Sherlock growled in frustration. This case was simple, ignorable. Murdered by a loved one, then that loved one dumped them into the Thames, stupid enough to think it would look like a drowning, brother maybe, best friend more likely. The only problem was the man didn’t have any identification on him. Greg started the cops on searching for missing persons. Molly’s problem was the real case. It wracked his brain and was entirely distracting.

“You know my name you great pillock and I didn’t say anything. Not that it’s any of your business.” He corrected the man that was his so called friend. It was a twist of a knife in his gut that Sherlock would assume he had anything to do with Molly running away. And that if he knew what it was, he wouldn’t be where Molly was right this very minute trying to fix it.

“I think you did. And Molly’s feelings are my business. You must have said something to hurt her. She wouldn’t leave without telling anyone if this was a simple sabbatical. What did you do, Greg? Leave her unsatisfied? Mutter your ex-wife’s name during coitus?” That earned him a punch in the face. It wasn’t even a hard one, but it was enough to pacify Greg for now. He was in no mood to put up with Sherlock. Damn bastard. Donovan came over.

“Boss, you alright?” Donovan was well acquainted with Greg’s newly acquired temper. The whole division stepped cautiously around the man, careful not to make any mistakes. The most miniscule error could set him off on a rampage. An unfortunate constable got to find that out when she left an evidence bag open while logging it. It took the rest of the week for the woman to stop jumping whenever Lestrade walked into the office. The freak prodding the poor detective wasn’t helping matters.

“Fine Donovan, get back to work.” Greg growled brooking no argument from his subordinate. Her face became cold, and she turned practically stomping away to finish what she was doing.

“Greg…” John began his apology for Sherlock’s behavior. Riling up Lestrade wouldn’t do Sherlock any favors right now, it wouldn’t help the situation for any of them.

“Don’t apologize for him, John. He’s not the least bit sorry.” Greg’s brow was thunderous. He was angry, bitter, and never felt so torn and alone in all of his life. Not even when he and the ex-wife finally divorced for good. No then he had been relieved, that the torment was finally over and done with. The only thing he couldn’t regret from that whole fiasco was their children. But now? Now he was bleeding inwardly and only Molly could make it right.

Sherlock stood with a hand from John, groaning as his bruised jaw pounded from the shift in gravity. “Maybe I am sorry, idiot. But punching me won’t bring Molly back. We’ve got to find her, and the only way to find her is to find out the reason why she left.” Sherlock explained. The other two men nodded in agreement. They would start asking around, they weren’t entirely hopeless. Sherlock and John left Scotland Yard to find the best friend of the victim, Sherlock declaring the case open and shut. Allowing Sherlock to return to 221B to his muddled puzzling over Molly's case and John to return to Mary and the baby bump.

Though when Mary questioned John’s actions and he dodged her questions, she begged him to leave it alone. Molly could make her own decisions. Their baby was kicking, she beckoned John over to the couch so he could have a listen, she would be born soon. John wondered who would know other than Stamford. And he was reminded of someone who would know everything, whether you wanted him to know it or not. John sent out the text without hesitation. Mary grumbled to the bump about their father being incredibly distracted.

_I know you know something Mycroft. They’re both going crazy without her. Tell me where she is, and what’s wrong. For the new baby’s sake, Uncle Sherlock can’t take much more of this not knowing. - JW_

It wasn’t untrue, Sherlock was so distracted he hadn’t even asked about Imogen. Wasn’t even nervous about the delivery, and it could be a matter of days now. He frowned at the comparison to when they had been planning the wedding, remembering Sherlock’s attention to all the details, the serviettes that appeared out of nowhere, folded ready for the tables. John easily recalled the three- dimensional miniatures, lists of people who love and hated Mary, his secretly interviewing what the detective deemed suspicious guests which really only turned out to be that one guy Mary had been friends with but now didn‘t really talk to her anymore, suspiciously. Sherlock had been concerned about the pregnancy up until Molly’s disappearing act. This needed to fixed and soon. For once John agreed with Sherlock, they would all be better if Molly came back. He waited until a reply pinged on his phone.

_There will be a car for you in two minutes Dr. Watson, I suggest you get in it. -MH_

John did as he was told and was once again sitting next to Anthea, who - no matter how many times he sat in one of these cars - never seemed to remember him. They pulled up to the familiar front steps of the Diogenes and John made his way to the back room where Mycroft was sitting behind a desk.

John took a seat and waited in stern silence until Mycroft came around to prop himself on the edge of the desk and handed him a photograph.

“This was taken two days ago.” Mycroft explained, his face betrayed nothing. A picture from a CCTV, typical. Mycroft always knows. Not the British Government, my arse, John thought. John’s mouth dropped, there she was, happy and shopping with some bint. Well, John looked again, she seemed to be putting on a happy face for the company she was with.

“Where?” John questioned, immediately concerned for her safety. It wasn’t the first time someone had play-acted for security cameras and not unheard of.

“Don’t let your mind jump to conclusions Dr. Watson, I would have gotten her back here if there was any danger. I’ve kept a close eye on her and she’s perfectly fine. She’s in Hastings. Working at a government-funded center for battered and abused women. And doesn‘t want visits from anyone or she would have told you that herself.” Mycroft announced as John made a move to get up so that he could leave and tell Sherlock. “I kept her secret for as long as possible, but like you said, Sherlock is not Sherlock if she’s not here. Everyone else had to learn to function without him, but Sherlock can’t function if someone in his life leaves.” Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Why did she leave?” John questioned knowing Mycroft knew more. Mycroft produced another photo. This time the view of an exam room.

“This was taken four days ago. I believe it is her first. First of many in the foreseeable future.” Mycroft gave a small smile as John’s eyebrows shot up into his forehead. Now it was making sense. It was another CCTV picture, this time of her getting an ultrasound. John had asked Greg before, the man wasn’t keen on starting down the road of marriage again, once divorced, twice shy. It would hurt a lot more now that he was older to be burned like that again. That stupid ex-wife of his… John was a very good bit of glad that he never met the woman. Maybe Greg would think differently if they told him he would be a father again but with Molly. A pang came from John’s gut as he realized Molly had been alone for the first ultrasound. That was a cherished memory he had with Mary and for a long time the baby’s first ultrasound had been his phone’s background. John was sure Lestrade would be the same way, if he knew. Molly looked like she was just on the edge of showing now that he looked at both pictures. They were fuzzy but he could see the signs of a growing womb.

“Is it-?” John asked unable to complete the thought.

“Greg Lestrade’s? I know you can‘t possibly be questioning that John.” John let out a breath of relief at that. Not knowing how Greg would take this, he himself and very soon Sherlock would both keep this from the man. It wasn’t right but Molly needed to tell him herself. Unless Greg became worse, then they would tell him without pause. Mycroft pursed his lips at the presumption that their Molly was the type to be happy and decide to sleep around.

“Why would she leave London then? Why not tell Greg?” John still didn’t understand, Greg would have been shocked but he wouldn’t just abandoned her. Their situation was a lot more complicated than John realized apparently, Mycroft sighed.

“She’s not happy there John, she’s not escaping from him, she’s hiding, running, protecting. She doesn’t want Greg to know because she doesn’t want to know his answer. I don’t know what occurred between them, contrary to popular opinion I don’t know everything, but she’s afraid. Afraid of losing him. She wants the baby and would like to have the Detective Inspector Lestrade as well. We all know how hurt he was from his pervious marriage, and it comes with the emotional baggage of two other children. I may not embrace sentiment but I can comprehend it. Maybe now everyone will understand why.“ He took his seat and put his knotted hands to his lips in a moment of contemplation. Their poor Molly. “She left so that he could move on and she could have some small form of him in their child. So that he won’t feel responsible for a child that he might not want. She’s hoping that by keeping him ignorant of their child, he’ll continue to live the lifestyle he desires. Molly is in love and protecting Lestrade by sacrificing herself. Quite noble, isn‘t it?” Mycroft huffed as he took a sip of the drink he so desperately needed. Noble, another substitute for stupidity. All of these feelings, gave him quite the head ache.

“What do we do?” John questioned. He couldn’t tell Greg, but they couldn’t leave her out there alone with no family, no one to talk to, and no one to care for her now that she’s pregnant.

“I know you want to look out for her Dr. Watson, but I assure you she’s receiving ample care. The couple that Dr. Stamford gave her to are looking after her during this delicate time quite diligently.“ Mycroft explained showing John another photo of the couple eating lunch with Molly at a café.

“I can’t just pretend that she’s not out there, away from Greg, miserable and pregnant. Greg would want to know, it‘s- that baby is his child!“ John practically bellowed his concerns to the room. Being a new father himself very soon made the doctor apparently sensitive to this situation, sitting very close to his chest. And not just because Molly was keeping the truth from Greg but because he felt this was all too familiar. The keeping secrets and the hiding from the one person that would want to know where they were, he had been that person. This was Sherlock’s swan dive from Bart’s all over again. Only now he was in on it and they were keeping the secret from Greg. No wonder the Detective Inspector had trust issues, people kept on lying to him whether he knew it or not.

“Leave her alone for now, John. She won’t leave even if you go there, and there’s very little for us to do except wait for the baby. She told Dr. Stamford she’d be back after the birth. So we wait.” Mycroft sighed taking another sip of scotch.

“That’s not good enough.” John growled, marching out of the office, photographs in hand. He’d show them to Sherlock. Mycroft sighed. He hadn’t wanted to say anything, but seeing Molly unhappy, that touched a sore spot in his gut he didn’t know he had. More like a toothache than anything else. Still he couldn’t pretend that Molly knew what she was doing anymore. Everyday she cried, he couldn’t tolerate that. Not even if that’s what she wanted. Just like Sherlock’s cocaine addiction, just because that’s what they wanted, that didn’t make it right.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, John is pissed! And he has every right to be I think.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	4. Three Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An east wind blows through a small coastal town where a pathologist hides herself away unawares. 
> 
> What will this wind wrought for her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday nights I usually reserve for hanging out with friends, unfortunately I'm trapped up north, so instead I am posting this tonight for you all! 
> 
> Hope you like the chapter!
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _16 weeks_ ]

 

\----…----…----…----

 

Molly helped the very pregnant young girl in front of her onto the exam table. Her brown hair was long and the sweatshirt and yoga pants she was wearing no longer hung on her frame like they had when Molly first met her. Her name was Corinne. She was much further along than Molly, looked about ready to pop. So Molly mentioned to her.

“You look like you’re not far behind.“ Corinne raised an eyebrow at her increasing waste line, her east London accent thick. “How far along?“ She questioned while Molly looked in her ears and at her eyes.

“I would say about three, four months. Thank god the morning sickness is going away. Still have to be careful where I go walking or the fishy smells of the harbor will make me sick.“ Molly and Corinne laughed at that as Corinne nodded in understanding. For her it was cigarette smoke which was a great pity since she liked to smoke before the baby but she doubted she‘d smoke after. Molly was only glad she was smiling more since she arrived a few months ago. The bruises on her face and arms were improving nicely now that she had the correct diet and pre-natal vitamins. Molly stripped and redressed some cuts that were on her legs and back, evidence of the car she had jumped from, checking where there were stitches. Molly checked the bruises with a delicate touch, she only winced when Molly touched her sprained wrist which was almost healed but still tender. Molly moved down to feel the movements of the baby inside her stomach and was impressed by the baby’s quick, strong response to being jostled around. “Everything seems to have progressed nicely, you should give birth to a healthy baby in no time.” Molly smiled, putting her hand behind her own back. The baby wasn’t quite big enough to put too much strain but spending time on her feet was starting to become a small bother. Not to mention exhausting. And the cheap shots at her kidneys and bladder from a tiny mischievous foot or fist weren’t helping matters.

“So Molly, why are you here?” Corinne inquired, swinging her legs a little bit once she righted herself to sit on the edge of the table. She had experienced so much, but she still showed signs of the youth of a young girl.

“Dr. Hooper.” Molly corrected with a smile. “I’m here because BJ and Stacey needed the help.” Molly smiled tightly. The girl was curious and fishing for answers. The other girls around the facility had asked as well. It was on everyone’s mind really. But she wasn’t willing to answer them.

“BJ and Stacey said everyone should be on a first name basis, Molly.” Corinne smiled smartly like she outwitted the doctor. Molly sighed in defeat about that. She couldn’t argue about what her bosses wanted even if she didn’t agree with it. “You might be helping but you don’t act like a regular doctor, your hands aren’t steady in an emergency like a doctor that’s seen emergencies and everyone doesn’t say it, but we’ve noticed you crying around the building during the day. You look sad when you think no one is looking. Like you’re leaving something or someone important behind to come here. Like you’re homesick. If you were like us, you would have cried at first but it would be out of relief and you would be afraid for the future, not sad. And you’ve been crying, especially when your hand goes to your stomach. So what’s the matter, Molly?” Corinne raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. She was the only person here brave, or suspicious, enough to ask and persist even when Molly fended them off.

“Nothing really. It’s not important. I’ll be fine.” Molly smiled, hoping her shortness with the girl would discourage her from more inquiries.

“I don’t think you’re fine, Molly. I think you ran away. Why?” Corinne asked, trying to get Molly’s attention even though Molly was gathering Corinne’s file to go back to her office. When she turned Molly nearly ran into a dark familiar curly-haired specter wearing that damn Belstaff. She gasped backing up into Corinne. “What is it, Molly?” The girl asked eyeing the man before them dubiously. “Is that someone you know?” Corinne questioned having never before seen the man. Or the smaller man that appeared at the end of the hall. Molly sighed in resignation. John looked angry, Sherlock looked curious, concerned, but curious.

“You found me. Who told you?” Molly groaned pushing passed them. BJ came bursting into the hallway. Breathing like he ran through the entire center searching for the two busybodies formerly known as her family.

“I’m sorry Molly, I tried… to stop them…I… told them… you weren‘t here.” BJ breathed leaning against the wall to catch his breath. “They wouldn’t take my word for it… and leave, they fought their way in.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the stupid man. “Yes, a lie, not a very deceptive one at that, I’ll be taking my pathologist back home now. Thank you very much for keeping an eye on her, but we’ll take it from here.” Sherlock bothered both Corrine and BJ with his blunt speech. Molly merely rolled her eyes.

“It’s alright BJ, not even the Queen could stop these two from finding me.” Molly turned to Corinne with a smile. “Go back to your room and make sure you’re getting enough rest, if you deliver soon we don’t want you to be cranky.” Molly smiled to Corinne who waddled out of the hallway, glad to be away from the tension that was building there. Whoever they were, they were angry and she was glad in that moment that she wasn’t Molly. “Sherlock, John…” Molly began trying to think of how to proceed.

Once the girl was out of hearing distance, John rolled his shoulders, mouth pursed with anger. “You, Molly Hooper, have some explaining to do.” John growled.

“That can wait until later once we get you back to London. Let’s go!” Sherlock announced in a voice that made for no arguments and pulled on her arm to get Molly to follow them out of the facility. He looked to her in shock when she forcibly removed her arm from his grip.

BJ came between her and the detective. “Molly doesn’t want to leave here, not until she’s had the baby. So thank you for visiting her, but you both can leave. Now.” BJ was just a few inches shorter than Sherlock and just as thin. Sherlock attempted to level him with his keen gaze. Sherlock had to give the man credit though, he still didn’t step out of the way. But then again he was used to fending off men a lot bigger and a lot more physically violent than Sherlock seemed to be.

“It’s alright BJ, I’ll be okay. Sherlock and John are just here to visit.” Molly explained, gently moving BJ to the side so that she could remove them from the building and hopefully convince them that she wasn’t leaving, no matter how much Sherlock wanted her to leave. He was just annoyed she wasn’t home to cater to his every whim and need for body parts.

“No we’re not. We’re here to take you home.” Sherlock lifted an eyebrow, thinking Molly couldn‘t be this stubborn. But thinking of how she stood between him and leaving London during his death until Mycroft gave the okay, um… perhaps she could be.

“I know that‘s why you‘re both here, but I’m not going.” When Sherlock opened his mouth to argue she silenced him with a hand. “Let me take you both out to lunch.” Molly smiled. John understood, putting a hand on Sherlock’s elbow to silence him from speaking further for now. She didn’t want to discuss this around here where she was currently working, and where patients could eavesdrop. Especially not in front of BJ who would probably report this all back to his wife.

“Okay Molly, where to?” John asked giving her a tight lipped grin. Politeness just for the sake of not saying the things the man clearly wanted to out loud, very English.

“Um this way, just have to get my bag. We’ve got a pretty decent fish and chips place then we can go for a walk, get some air.” Be away for neighbors and people she knew from around the village. It was bad enough that everyone from the village would see her walking around with the two of them. Sherlock gestured for her to lead the way and BJ watched her leave with the two men concerned that she might not be safe going with them. They looked both like dangerous men, then he remembered the names Molly called them. He would find out who these men were and give Stamford a call. If his wife’s friend knew who they were, maybe he could tell BJ whether or not to look out for Molly.

 

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Once they had eaten their fish and chips, Molly doing nothing more than picking at her own. Even after John offered for them to eat somewhere else that would allow her to eat better, the three friends walked until the number of people within hearing distance was a minimal. John helped Molly down to a bench, even though she was barely showing, he couldn’t stop his doctoring habits. He had to admit as they watched the sea, if he wasn’t so angry, Hastings would be nice. Both men waited patiently for the explanation Molly knew they rightly deserved. Sherlock fed some of his left over chips to passing seagulls and then turned around to watch Molly. Molly avoided Sherlock’s gaze, staring at nothing even though she was looking out to the rolling waves, Sherlock could see all that he wanted to on his own. She didn’t need to say anything.

John couldn’t stand the silence so he made the typical inquiry as to her health, said she needed to eat more, wondered about the sex of the baby. She didn‘t know yet, the ultrasound was in the next couple of days, just to make sure that the gender was fully developed. She watched John turn away at that, very angry with her. He was going to have his own child to worry about, this was keeping him away from the baby. That was probably why he was mad. Sherlock never liked going anywhere on a case without John. Really that was how he viewed this situation, like a case he couldn’t solve.

“John you don’t have to be here you know, just because Sherlock drags you along. I told you both to go home, I’m not coming back.” Molly explained. John looked to her in shock then looked away, and shook his head like he wasn’t going to say what was on his mind. He wasn’t going to upset her. “What? What are you not saying, John?” She wanted to know. She was tired of him not speaking his anger towards her out loud. It was only recently that she knew he forgave her for protecting Sherlock’s secret.

“You-” He stood up and took a breath stepping away from Molly for a second. Sherlock came to sit by her. He didn’t like the look in John’s eye. John turned around looking to her again. “You never told any of us. Just up and left without a word. You lied to Greg- Didn’t tell him the most important thing in the world, that he was going to be a father. He should be here, or better yet you should be in London with him, so that you both can see the ultrasounds together. Have this baby together. How could you do that Molly? Ho-?” John ate his words with a bite of anger. Sherlock’s hand squeezed her knee. The pain written on John’s face was terribly familiar. It was their reunion all over again.

“You don’t understand, John.” Molly replied quietly, her words dying on the breeze.

“You’re bloody right, I don’t.” John’s whole body shook with anger. Everything in him wanted to shake Molly right now, not understanding any of this. She didn’t have to do this. “Even if Greg didn’t want the baby- which is impossible by the way, oh and Greg’s is feeling like complete shite without you and spends most of his nights at the bottom of a bottle, thanks for asking - you have all of us, we would have helped you-” John growled frustrated. He just didn’t understand this.

“I didn’t want to see.” Molly interrupted John’s tirade.

“Didn’t want to see what?” John asked.

“She didn’t want to see Lestrade’s face.” Sherlock explained looking to Molly with sad understanding eyes. It was the same reason why he dressed up as a waiter instead of facing John head on. Molly smiled to Sherlock, who took her hand in his. He understood so much of sentiment but pushed it all away because to feel would tear him apart. Unlike Mycroft who didn’t feel at all, Sherlock felt too much. He hated seeing Molly like this.

“You haven’t seen what he’s been like Molly, the pain he’s in, angry at the world. He’s a complete mess without you. It’s not right.” John shook his head. Nothing about this was right. For once, he agreed with Sherlock. They would find a way to drag Molly back home kicking and screaming.

“He’s right Molly, everything is wrong without you there.” Sherlock frowned, thinking of the lab without her there. Molly noticed his look.

“Yes nothing is right unless I’m there to give you a severed head.” Molly uttered derisively.

“That was one time!” Sherlock didn’t understand why he needed to continually defend himself about that. Until he noticed Molly was laughing lightly, avoiding his gaze, the corner of his mouth lifted.

“The point is!” John interrupted their banter to continue the conversation. “The point is, you need to come home. Please Molly, if you stay here much longer you won’t be able to travel until the baby is born.” Molly obviously knew this.

“I don’t want to go home, John. I’ll be back after the baby is born. Greg won’t know if you both keep you mouths shut.” She looked pointedly at Sherlock who avoided her gaze, then at John who glowered at her. “And I’ll find a way to tell him. I know I’m doing the right thing, John. Greg doesn’t want a family. If I-“ Sherlock watched her swallow against her emotions. “If I tell him, he’ll feel responsible, and get tied down to another kid- to a family he told me he didn’t want in the first place. He already had a family, and his ex-wife ruined it. He doesn’t want to go through that again. I would only be a burden, a mistake he would resent.” Molly looked away with a sigh, wiping none too subtly at a tear that fell. Sherlock’s hand tightened on hers again.

“That’s a lie! Greg would want a family with you!“ John argued. He thought he knew his friend well enough to know what the look in his eye meant when he spoke of his girlfriend. He was crazy about Molly, he’d never seen Greg so happy.

“Would he? Do you know that, John? Have you asked him? I did.“ Molly dug her feet in on this point. John was just defending his friend. He didn’t know the truth, what had happened between them and that gave him pause.

“And what, you’re just going to pretend that this doesn’t mean anything, that your child won’t mean anything to him? And what will you do, raise the child yourself and never tell him? Send the baby away whenever you invite Greg over for a shag so he‘ll never know?” John didn’t understand the thought process behind any of this at all. Yes, he understood her fear about telling Greg but she wasn’t alone and he didn‘t understand why she was behaving to the contrary. “We’re your family Molly we can help you. You’re not alone in this at all. So stop pretending that you‘re one of those battered women you’ve treated and come home! ” John met her eyes and hoped she knew, even if he was mad at her, she could still come to him.

“I don’t know what I’ll do John. I haven’t gotten that far yet. I probably will raise the baby by myself. But I just can‘t deal with it all now. I want a family, and I want Greg. But Greg doesn’t want a family with me. This baby changed everything and I need time to think, to find out what that means. I’ll figure out how to tell him when I get back. And I‘m not going home until this baby comes.” Molly said firmly. Not giving in, no matter how much she wanted to just say yes.

“So you’re going to stay here alone, by yourself, surrounded by sodding strangers until the baby comes and just come home in half a year and pretend like nothing happened?” John wondered what the hell Molly could be thinking. Sherlock looked to Molly who was avoiding their gazes entirely, shutting down.

“That’s exactly what she’s planning to do John. She’s not going to change her mind.” Sherlock sighed getting up and walking away. He wouldn’t stop her, there was nothing to stop Molly now. But he really hoped Molly knew what she was doing, as he walked away. In a few steps, John fell in just behind him like John always did.

“What are you doing? We’re leaving?! We’re just going to leave her here, alone?!” John was frustrated beyond belief and not getting the answer from anyone that he wanted to hear.

“Yes, John. That’s what we’re doing.” Sherlock explained calmly. When John tried to turn back, ready to make a scene by dragging her back to London against her will, Sherlock stopped him with a hand at his elbow. He met John’s eyes, knowing John would see that he didn’t like this either. “There’s nothing more we can do in Hastings. She doesn’t want to come with us. This isn’t something that can be fixed right now. But there is something we can do back home.” Sherlock tried to get John to see, once he saw the light go off in John’s head, his friend nodded and then continued back towards the train station to take them back to London.

Molly stood from the bench sadly, seeing that she would have to walk back to the clinic by herself. Not that she minded now, she was getting rather good at being alone again. She just hoped that they wouldn’t tell Greg her secret. She patted the growing baby in her stomach, thinking of the words John said to her about how Greg was doing, squelching a sob before it started. She had a baby to think about now. If he didn’t know, and she didn’t see his face once he did know, she could love it and not hate herself for having it. Not hating it for ruining the happiness she had with Greg. Selfish, just so that she could have some small part of Greg with her, no matter what happened.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brr! That east wind blows cold though, doesn't it? 
> 
> Let me know what you all think!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	5. Four Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life in London continues with or without Molly being there, and there is absolutely nothing Sherlock can do to stop it. 
> 
> Mycroft finally visits Molly in Hastings, delivering news with him. 
> 
> Can Mycroft convince Molly that she needs to be in London where she belongs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another toast to a boring Sunday! Hope this helps you through it! I know this update is coming early in the morning but here's hoping you find yourselves walking through the internet woods on a Sunday afternoon. 
> 
> Oh and a word about the texting in this story, I believe that Molly only texts once and only once, that fateful text, but obvious, Mycroft's texts are signed -MH, just wanted to clarify so no one found themselves confused.
> 
> This will probably be the hardest chapter to post by far, as you'll see. I hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _20 weeks_ ]

 

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_It’s a boy. - MH_

 

The text came up on Sherlock’s phone while he was thinking over a case. He was deep into his mind palace. But he answered the text anyway, just in case there was something wrong with Molly or if Mary went into labor. He filed the information away in Molly’s room filled with comfort, plush pillows and - he sneered at the indifferent mewing monsters weaving their way around his ankles - cats. He passed a sad Molly that was curled up on the couch, refusing to give her attention for now. The puzzle was annoying and he really didn’t have time to play with and prod at it today. There was a door that connected to the morgue where he stored all of his medical, first aid knowledge and reminded himself of what spare body parts he would need to procure for experiments. Also where he temporarily stored bodies he investigates during cases until they’re solved, filed away like files. He had made a small room that was between Molly’s room and so far locked on the other side that would connect it to Lestrade’s, _a boy_ , he returned to the center of the room where a crib was now. The room currently looked rather plain and sterile, depressing, much like the atmosphere of the clinic in Hastings. _Institutional._ He heard distant crying, weeping, _Molly_. She was sad, away from Greg, but refused to fix it. The baby made her even sadder but she refused to fix that. _Obvious._ The answer was Greg, but Molly refused to acknowledge the answer was right in front of her. The boy would be just like those other babies born of mothers who were struggling with their place in the world, but Molly didn’t have to struggle, she just didn’t want to face her reality. _Why?_ He cooed and reached into the crib, a baby’s hand came out to touch his finger. Interesting. Strong, too. Like his father. Ankle biter. That caused him to smile at the little interloper. He might have been pushing his parents apart for now, but Sherlock predicted that the baby would be a bridge, bringing his parents back together as well. _Sentiment._ Molly would probably name him after her father. _Stuart Hooper._ A brass name plate, like those on the donation walls of museums and hospitals, more specifically like the ones on the Wall of Benefactors in St. Bart’s appeared. It left a sour taste in his mouth, it should have read Lestrade. He’d fix that. He turned to try and unlock the door to Lestrade’s connecting room. It wouldn’t budge. He started banging on it, tried to force it. Even threw his whole body into it, his whole mind. It creaked until a crack of light appeared but the lock refused to budge open like it had when he had gone through this process previously. The stupid emotions were closing his friend off from his new baby boy. _Second chance._ It wasn’t fair. _Wrong._ They needed to tell Lestrade about this baby and soon. Damage was already being done, the door to Lestrade’s room worn from Sherlock already trying to force it open for Molly, but she always refused, locking it again. Molly kept the key from him, hiding somewhere amongst the pillows and comfort like she did her hardness. _Stubborn._ The baby started crying, drawing his attention, he turned back and the door that was there was now bricked over. He tried and tried but the wall wasn’t going away. He growled, he needed to fix this before it couldn’t be fixed anymore. He walked away, no longer able to deal with the finality of the brick wall. He’d come back later with a sledge hammer. This was his mind palace, it was his to control no matter what the people in it had to say. A distant, hollow, sing-song laughing could be heard from the bowels of his mind palace. He refused to listen to it, his head twitching to the side in a tick. _Leave it alone._ He walked back towards a brighter, surer part of his mind. John’s half. The place where he kept all the evidence of his cases and kept track of details. Even if he couldn’t remember them, John would shed light on them for Sherlock just by being in the rooms. There was a room that was John specific, and he smiled hearing a baby girl’s laughter coming from that room, followed by John‘s. Imogen was due any day now. _Imogen._ It would be foolish to say that he didn’t look forward to that day. He shook his head, turning away from the temptation of playing with the new baby, until he was back deep into the evidence room, and sorting through files, deleting extraneous details. _Focus._ There would be time to think about being an Uncle later.

Footsteps came up the stairs of the flat. Familiar, no thunk of an umbrella, not Mycroft. No hesitation every other step, not Mrs. Hudson. Sure steps, hurried, no, excited. Not Lestrade right now, so John. Sherlock dumped out the left over evidence he had yet to sort through and pushed it aside, closed the door and came up from deep inside his mind, just as John finished coming up the steps into 221B.

“Tea?” Sherlock offered rising, cracking his back after reclining on the couch. Hmm. Five hours. He hadn’t known he was so deep into thinking.

“Can’t. Mary went into labor, she’s in the hospital. I was just wondering if you wanted to come along, be there for the birth.” John smiled, breathless with excitement. He’d be a father soon. John came further into the room, casually, like he had all the time in the world and sat in his familiar chair. 

“Why aren’t you with her?!” Sherlock called from the door of his bedroom, which he ran into upon hearing that Mary was in labor, using his Anderson-is-an-idiot voice, changing into his suit quickly. So soon? He thought he’d at least have a few more days.

“She suggested I come get you, apparently I hover and it was getting on her nerves.” John laughed at his ridiculously lovely wife.

“And you couldn’t text from the waiting room?” Sherlock questioned throwing on his scarf and Belstaff. He was on his way downstairs before John could get up from his chair.

“I didn’t feel it was something to text, so I came here to get you instead. It could be hours yet, Sherlock.“ Sherlock was on the kerb with a cab, impatiently waiting, holding the door for John. It was like he couldn’t comprehend anything right now, Sherlock groaned to himself. John wasn’t usually this thick, maybe it was the impending fatherhood cutting off circulation to his usually more logical thought processes. John instructed the cabbie which hospital to go to and they were off into the London traffic.

Sherlock used time of the cab ride judiciously, and was sending off rapid fire texts telling Lestrade details of the case, and where he was going. The case wasn’t that dangerous and could wait until he had a spare moment. Lestrade sent his love to Mary, and promised to get him other details if he could. The more data the better. Sherlock wondered if the Yard could come through this time. Thinking of Lestrade and the information he knew made him wince. John’s leg was bouncing a mile a minute. It was beyond irritating. Thickhead. Shouldn’t have left the hospital. Now he was nervous and stuck in traffic in a cab, instead of just remaining in the waiting room.

“Its going to be a boy.” Sherlock announced into the excited air of the cab.

“No, we already know its going to be a girl. You know we’re calling her, Imogen.” John smiled with a chuckle at Sherlock’s supposed forgetfulness. Sherlock rolled his eyes in response, looking inward for patience.

“Not _your_ baby. Molly’s. She’s going to give Lestrade another son.” Sherlock explained quietly, just a bit sad. Even he knew it was more than a bit not good that Molly hadn’t told Greg. And didn’t want the man to know at all until after his boy was born. John’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

“How did you find out? Did she tell you?” John questioned as they pulled up to the hospital. She still wasn’t keeping regular contact with them, and her mobile was still disconnected. They all checked regularly, even Mary.

“Mycroft. He keeps me updated. Now that I know where she was, little point in him denying it.” Sherlock grumbled not liking Molly’s situation at all as they arrived at the hospital. For once he paid for a cab, John already inside in his impatience to get back to Mary. It was like an itch at the back of his head that wouldn’t go away, an unsolved problem. John watched Sherlock make his I-can’t-find-an-explanation-or-human-emotions-are-messy face which was getting worse every day now. He gave his friend an empathetic smile, too happy about Mary having Imogen soon to be upset today. It was a good day.

“Well I’m glad for her, I just wish we could tell Lestrade.” John threw out into the air between them as John wove them in and out of the hospital hallways to the maternity wing waiting room. Sherlock had convinced John on the train back from Hastings that they should keep this to themselves for a while. Molly was clearly upset, had some thoughts to sort through, but if Lestrade got much worse, they would agree to tell him together. Just in case he got physical. Very likely, Sherlock had said. But now the guilt was eating at Sherlock, and Greg wasn’t getting any better.

“Soon. We should tell him soon. Preferably while he’s a bit drunk. He’ll probably need a while to digest it before he goes to her. First thing’s first.” Sherlock agreed nodding towards a nurse that called out for Dr. Watson. John went over and listened to what the woman said, his head hung, not liking the news. This could be bad. Not good. He gave Sherlock a haunted, worried look before disappearing into the double doors. The skin on the back of Sherlock’s neck began to crawl. The baby’s laughter in his mind palace slowly turned to crying. _Wrong._ Very bit not good.

It was a few very annoying, torturous, boring hours Sherlock spent alone in the waiting room folded awkwardly into disgusting, sorrowful, plastic chairs before John would come back out. He helped the surgeon do the cesarean section, apparently Mary was having problems struggling through a natural birth and the baby was weaker than they had anticipated. Sherlock knew it had been early. John wouldn’t let them touch Mary unless he could help, so the obstetrician allowed it. Both mother and child were weak but doing just fine. It was then that Sherlock noticed John had also brought out a little pink bundle in his arms, all smiling and wet about the eyes. When he placed the baby in Sherlock’s arms, the world tilted. _Imogen._ He smiled as the baby smacked her mouth, testing out her tongue’s motions before giving a great yawn. John watched Sherlock coo - yes, he cooed no matter how much his best friend argued against the contrary - at her. The consulting detective cuddled Imogen close as she reached out with her hands, grabbing onto the warmth of his Belstaff.

Uncle Sherlock, indeed.

 

\----…----…----…----

 

Molly sat on the solitary bench in the back of the cottage she and Gladys called home. The bench faced a perfectly appointed English garden that Gladys attended to herself when she wasn‘t feeding, medicating, sheering or birthing sheep, and beyond that lay the sea. Just off to the left Molly could hear the bleating of the sheep. It made for quite the quaint picture. If only Molly could enjoy it, she could barely see around the tears in her eyes, making the scene before her swim. She was thinking of everyone back home. Sherlock and John’s visit had torn open the scab of her homesickness and it was raw and new again. She wondered if Mary had given birth to Imogen yet, what the baby would look like, what cases or body parts Sherlock got into, Greg… That was the point when the tears would fall, and the pain in her chest made it hard to breathe. She was so lonely, but especially in these moments, thinking of him. The moments were more haunting at night. At night, when her thoughts ran away from her, and her body yearned for his, she would wake up reaching for the warmth only Greg could provide but only finding a cold sheet, and the sound of the sea instead of snoring. More than once she thought she had heard the snoring in her sleep, only to wake up to the silence of the lonely room. The ambient noise of twilight Hastings doing little to fill the void Molly felt without Greg sleeping beside her, and unable to lull her back to sleep. She would spend the rest of the night awake and tortured by the ghosts Greg had left on her heart.

A throat was cleared next to Molly, a familiar umbrella and leather oxfords making impressions in the white stones around the bench.

“Mycroft.” Molly smiled up at the man, wiping her eyes. A handkerchief was wordlessly provided as he came to sit next to her. She moved over, hand over her now very distended stomach. Soon it would swell, now it was about half the size it could be but a noticeable change to her normally svelte figure. Mycroft noted the changes with that patented keen Holmes gaze.

“Miss. Hooper. I hope you’re keeping yourself well.” Mycroft ran an eye over Molly’s form. Too thin. “You should be eating more, its bad for the boy.” Mycroft smiled setting his umbrella onto the arm of the bench and crossing his legs at the knees. She sighed, of course he knew without needing to be told, British Government. An arm came around Molly’s shoulders, funny, she never supposed him to be the comforting type. Her back became rigid at Mycroft’s touch. She couldn’t help it, it wasn’t the same as Lestrade, and now her body screamed for him every minute of every day. Her body also wanted to start nesting, but there was no where for her to nest here. She wouldn’t be staying.

She’d have the baby, but she’d return like she promised once she was able.

“I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, Mycroft Holmes.” Molly replied sharply, he didn’t have an opinion on what she did, and it was his fault that John and Sherlock found out where she was. So much for trust in the British Government.

“I’m only concerned for your health, my dear.” Mycroft smiled apologetically, hands going to his lap. Molly gave him back his handkerchief. Mycroft took it wordlessly.

He jumped up at attention when Molly let out a hiss of pain. Her shoulders shook with laughter, he was ready to fight the world at her slightest noise of discomfort.

“Don’t worry, that’s just the baby kicking.“ Once Mycroft settled back down on the bench. Molly grew serious again. “Thank you for your concern Mycroft, but really there’s no reason for it. I’m perfectly fine.” Molly huffed. “Why are you here anyway?” Molly accused, Mycroft saw that he had raised her ire, and he supposed he deserved that a little, but he only wanted what was best for people connected to Sherlock and, he reluctantly admitted, himself, even if its not what they wanted. A flaw of his own, he supposed.

“Mary and John wanted me to show you these.” Mycroft handed over a manila folder of pictures. Molly took in a gasp as she saw them all. Sherlock and John holding a newly born Imogen, taken with a camera phone, Sherlock’s phone. Mary took it, judging by the feet she saw in the bed at the edge of the frame. Another photo, this time John, Mary, and Imogen together, with Mary sitting in the hospital bed looking wan and tired, but happy. The handkerchief reappeared at her side, Molly hadn’t known she’d been crying. She should be there, Greg and she should have been there in the room with bells on, carrying gifts and balloons. She felt so alone here, so distant. Walls she built around herself, all on her own. And nothing could take them back down. “They hope you’ll come home so Imogen can meet her Aunt Molly.” That was when she got to the last one, a photo of Imogen sleeping in her hospital crib, curled up on her stomach, sucking her thumb. A little card sat against her and read, _come home soon_. Messy hand-writing, nearly illegible, most likely Sherlock’s, done by Sherlock while her parents were sleeping. That was a low, manipulative blow, even for Sherlock. Molly shook her head, handing the photos back. When Mycroft refused them, she simply laid them down between them on the bench. She didn’t want a reminder of what she was giving up by being out here. That she was missing out on everything she would have loved to see. She would just be torturing herself. The wind fluttered the corners that stuck out from the folder. “I won’t force you, Molly. I just want you to see that you have people that care and miss you. Even Greg, though he doesn‘t know where you are, he is missing you.” Mycroft hoped coming all the way here was proof of his own disapproval of her being in Hastings. Molly calmed herself and gave the handkerchief back once again. The poor white square looked quite sad, being handed back and forth between the two lonely people.

“I know and I love them all, but I can’t Mycroft. I just can’t.” Molly shook her head, another single tear rolling down her cheek. She wiped at it in frustration. He just came here to make her feel bad. Molly put a hand in her stomach, smiling a little as the baby kicked against her touch. She chose to do this, for the baby, to sort through her scattered thoughts and now it was too late to fix it. She had even asked Stacey the morning before when they began the ultrasound. It was too late for travel. Any travel at all was risky by now. Short car or train trips yes, but Hastings was too far away from London. The constant motion would potentially upset the baby. She wouldn’t risk it.

Mycroft stood then, taking one last look at the lovely scenery. He turned to face Molly and offered her a hand. With a hand on her womb, she stood. It wasn’t a struggle yet but she was glad for the help. He left the photographs and she didn’t pick them up. The folder fluttered in the breeze. They would probably blow away. Molly picked them up then and held them out to Mycroft. He took them barely containing a sigh of frustration. He had hoped the pictures would do more talking in his absence than she was able to hear from him now. Molly didn’t take the bait.

“I told you I wouldn’t force you.” Mycroft reminded her, offering her an arm so that he could assist her back to the house, the back door wasn’t used to get back into the house and she had to go through the front. Mycroft wondered how the old woman didn’t break her neck on the unsafe misshapen steps around her property, nothing more than stones and mud, but he worried more for Molly walking over them in her condition. He could imagine Greg worrying twice as much, if only he knew.

“Then don’t leave me evidence to the contrary.” Molly smiled politely, digging her nails into his arm. His smile tighten as the only sign of his discomfort, Gladys was watching, as well as all the other surrounding neighbors. Neighbors were sometimes better at gathering intelligence than Secret Service agents in his opinion.

“Of course, my dear. I’m afraid this is where I leave you.” Anthea stood at the door waiting for her boss to climb into the back of the car. She had warned Mr. Holmes, Dr. Hooper agreeing to coming back to London before the baby was born wasn’t possible now. He still had wanted to try. Mycroft escorted Molly to the front steps and kissed her forehead. He did that quite a lot since the whole LAZARUS incident. Without her help, Sherlock would have been dead. “Do try to keep healthy. And take care of yourself. Tell Mrs. Lowell I said thank you for her kind hospitality.” He patted her stomach, a motion which stopped Molly in her tracks. She watched the mysterious man smile with puzzling affection down at her stomach, and then he walked to the car, only turning back to wave goodbye. Mycroft climbed into the waiting car after Anthea and drove off.

Molly wrapped her arms about her stomach, and under her baby bump and watched as the car drove off. She waited until the sun went down, until the dust finally settled and the wind blew away the evidence of London visiting her from the road. Even past the point where she should have been shivering. She wondered if it would be very soon until Greg came to Hastings to find her as well. She both dreaded and wished for that day to come.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow that was an intense chapter. Just like everything else, it will probably continue to get worse before it gets better, dear readers, sorry.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	6. Five Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth will out, and the truth will come out. But how will Greg react to knowing the truth about why Molly ran away? 
> 
> Can Sherlock and John get Lestrade to go to Hastings and bring Molly back?
> 
> What will Molly discover when she gets an elder, wiser perspective of what made her leave London and everything she knew? Will Gladys finally make her see the truth?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter to help you through the week. 
> 
> Strap in the ride gets sort of bumpy through this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _24 weeks_ ]

 

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John and Sherlock waited for as long as they possibly could. They waited until Imogen was home and Mary was feeling well enough to take care of the baby for a night. Most nights Sherlock stayed up and would feed or change the baby before she could make anything more than a slight fuss. Then once her parents stirred he would go home to Baker Street and sleep. Unless there was a case, but most nights so far he spent thinking on their couch. Sorting through his mind palace, worrying over Molly and when they would have to tell Lestrade. Both parents in turn, were not only very grateful, but very well rested. Not something that usually is synonymous with first time parents with a newborn. At least not first time parents without a live-in Sherlock.

But now Mary was encouraging them to go and take Greg for a night out at the pub, instructing John and Sherlock to be gentle when they told him the truth, this was said with a gaze pointed at Sherlock that vaguely made him wince. What was it about going through child birth that immediately gave women that one gaze that scared the living daylights out of all children and grown men alike?

Now Sherlock and John were at John and Greg’s favorite pub, and Greg was well into his third pint to John’s one and Sherlock’s was barely sipped. Really Sherlock hadn’t wanted anything to do with beer after the whole stag night catastrophe. Though if John and Sherlock were being honest the man was probably already a little bit drunk before they even got to the pub. Sherlock had sent John a text with the details he observed.

_Suit is three days old and unlaundered or even washed, his five o’clock shadow is probably just as long into full beard growing territory, and there isn’t any evidence that he has been eating more than coffee and powdered doughnuts around the yard. -SH_

Sherlock was assuming a great deal, but Sherlock thought he was observing that their friend spent the better part of his nights on his couch drinking and passing out with a whiskey bottle for comfort, while downing coffee and doughnuts during the day to sober up. John’s face was grim when he looked to Sherlock, and a fake cheery smile when Greg tried to get their attention, and wasn’t watching the rugby match on the TV. Sherlock didn’t know how to begin. He elbowed John, who nodded, picking up on his cue. That was one of the things that sometimes Sherlock was very grateful for. The both of them couldn’t ignore social niceties.

“So Greg, any hot dates lately?” John asked coughing at the end of his question. Sherlock rolled his eyes to the ceiling, no John not obvious at all.

“Can’t even think of dating, John, you know that. Hurts too much. Why you askin? And why is he here?” Greg slurred, jabbing a finger drunkenly in Sherlock’s direction. His nice demeanor and mental filter had both been long since turned off before he even got to the pub. Not wanting any deducing insults during his pub nights with John.

“We need to tell you something.” Sherlock put it bluntly, he thought he lasted quite long before just telling the man, as John gave him an annoyed look.

“Tell me wot?” Lestrade slurred, taking a long pull from his mug until it was empty. He waved the bartender over and John gave the man a glare that quickly had the larger man scurrying to the other end of the bar again. When Greg opened his mouth to protest, John gave him a look that told him the truth. He was drunk already and really, the man already had enough. As his friends, both John and Sherlock were done watching him drink himself into a stupor.

John placed his hands on the bar to brace himself for anything, and looked away from Greg’s eye. This was going to be very painful. “We found Molly, we know where she’s been hiding.” John winced as his friend processed the news. Sherlock watched expressions flit across the detective inspector’s face in rapid fire succession, finally settling on the easiest. Anger. But instead of punching, Greg laid a number of bills, not seeing that he left _entirely_ too much on the table, and walked out, his jaw working in furious rage. John got up to follow and Sherlock left the proper amount, tucking the man’s money into his coat pocket to give him once he calmed down.

John was running down the street calling out for Greg but he didn’t hear. All he could see or hear was red. He was so fucking furious. How dare they! How dare she! This pain, this sense of betrayal. It was his ex-wife all over again. No it was worse this time. Much, much worse. Because he had thought himself smarter than this, since the divorce. That he had learned his lesson. But once again, he was here, with his heart stabbed and bleeding inwardly.

“Greg please! There’s more!” John called finally catching up to him. Sherlock caught up as well, putting a hand on Greg’s shoulder to stop his steps and was met by a sloppy punch to his chin that didn’t hurt any less than it usually did. He stumbled slightly but continued on. The man wasn’t going to escape the truth.

“You knew! You both- The two of you knew the entire time and you never told me? What was this some big joke? Toy around with the vulnerable DI and his hot, little pathologist. Was it some sort of experiment of human emotions for Sherlock to find out how long it would take for a person to give up on someone they said they loved?” That one hurt, Sherlock may have been strange in his experiments, burning up retinas and jumpers alike, microwaving body parts, but he wasn’t cruel.

“I would never do that to you. To any of my friends. Though I have to admit, you did that experiment for me between your ex-wife and dating Molly.“ Lestrade took a threatening step forward at that remark, his drunkenness leaving him vulnerable to Sherlock’s quips. John put his body between his two friends. “Get a grip on yourself, Lestrade. And stop being Anderson level stupid, its beneath you.“ The look of betrayal in Sherlock’s face stopped Lestrade’s ire. “We didn’t know right away, Mycroft knew and then he told John and John told me. We’ve been to see her.” That stopped Lestrade in his tracks, his face dropping in shock. They’ve actually physically seen her, and he was sitting here in London in absolute agony, dying to just catch a glimpse of her. Seeing ghosts of her all over his apartment, he was being tortured. And they both had seen her, in the flesh.

“That still doesn’t excuse you both not telling me.” Lestrade’s hands rubbed his face, now the nice buzz he got from the beer was wearing off and just made him feel wrong. He tried to leave them in the street again, but this time John stopped him, tugging on his arm. John’s face full of sympathy and contrition.

“We know but please, Greg- Please. Lets go back to Baker Street and we’ll explain everything, please Lestrade.” John offered. Lestrade gave a curt nod and Sherlock flagged down a cab, handing Lestrade most of the money he had left on the bar, which his friend took gladly. He really hadn’t meant to leave over a hundred quid for the three beers.

The ride back to the flat was tense and silent. For the rest of the night, Sherlock really hoped there would be no more fists connecting to his face.

 

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John and Sherlock walked into Baker Street with Lestrade reluctantly following them. He sprawled himself on the couch, bending backwards to look to the ceiling for some help as to how to process this - that his friends had betrayed him, that Molly had hid herself from him, from all of them with no conceivable explanation, the truth of the situation was starting to make his head pound - and Sherlock milled about the living room while John busied himself making tea. Their friend was in pain, and angry at them, but silent. Sherlock didn’t know how to fix this, just like he hadn’t known how to get John to accept his apology. He hardly knew how to proceed with Lestrade, tell him all that they knew in such a way that wouldn’t get physical violence enacted upon his person. He always seemed to slip and say the one thing normal people wouldn’t and that- well, that usually got him punched.

John came back from the kitchen bearing cups of tea and went around passing them out. If Lestrade could sober up a little this would be helpful. Lestrade took a sip of the tea and grimaced, he really wished that he could drink himself into not knowing that everyone he brought into his life eventually betrayed him. It was a truth of life, but it still hurt him to know it.

John gave Sherlock his tea and nodded to his chair, Sherlock automatically sitting down in it, taking a sip of his tea. His movements precise and elegant as they always were, but most especially when he was nervous to cover up his nervous energy, to everyone else but the two men in the room. John went to the familiar chair opposite Sherlock‘s, punching the familiar, dusty union jack pillow before sitting down. They all drank their tea for a while and were silent. The air in the room was saturated with Lestrade’s feelings of anger, betrayal and it would only get worse when they told him what they knew. John wished he knew the best way to tell a man that his girlfriend not only left him, left all of her friends in London for Hastings, but was going to give birth to their son in a few months. The thought was painful even to John and it wasn’t his girlfriend, wasn’t his child.

He took out his phone and looked at the picture of Mary and Imogen on the home screen. The thought of Mary doing that to him twisted his gut, knowing the secrets she already was keeping from him, also of the decision he had made to trust her no matter what she kept from him but that was a decision every man deserved to make for himself. Those secrets he didn’t want to know, but this wasn’t past lives and mistakes, this was a man’s child. Lestrade’s child. Lestrade deserved to know.

“We saw Molly and we know where she is.” John reiterated. Sherlock eyed John. Where was he going with this? “She’s in Hastings, working at a center that helps abused women. But that‘s not the reason that she‘s out there.”

“Obvious.” Sherlock thought that even Lestrade would notice that, Molly works with post mortems. No real reason for her being there to see to the health of the living.

“Why would she be there then?” Lestrade questioned, taking a frustrated sip of his tea.

“She’s there because she’s pregnant.” John continued, not paying attention to Sherlock’s shocked expression. And Sherlock thought he himself would be the blunt one tonight.

“No she’s not!” Lestrade denied incredulously. He saw her the night before she left, she wasn’t pregnant then. This was some sick joke he wasn’t buying.

“Yes, she is. She just wasn’t showing until after she left.” Sherlock interrupted, rising from his chair to grab the photos that were sitting on the desk. He handed them to the detective inspector, showing Lestrade the photos John had showed him and left at the flat three months before. The photos he had looked at over and over and wondered why Molly had left. “I don’t need to explain that its yours, do I?“ Sherlock questioned as Lestrade took the pictures, at Lestrade’s negative shake he walked back across the room and stood before the hearth. The gravity of the truth hit Lestrade in full force, leaving him an ocean away from where he was before tonight to look at the pictures of Molly. Seeing her three months before, evidence of being pregnant quite clear, even under the bulky sweaters and coat she was wearing in the photo. His hand rubbed at his chest, his heart sore. Greg wondered what Molly looked like now, three months later. “Mycroft showed John those three months ago, and John showed me the photos two months ago. That’s means, by my deduction, she’s probably about six months along. Congratulations, by the way. Would you like to know what the sex of the baby is? We know that too. Well Molly knows, so Mycroft knows, then he told me and I told John.” Sherlock was rambling now, nervous that they hadn’t got a reaction out of Lestrade. When Lestrade lifted his gaze to Sherlock, his eyes flinched, seeing the pain in Lestrade’s eyes.

“What is it?” Lestrade asked blankly. He still thought, maybe he was dreaming, he was drunk enough. It could be possible. But this was too painful not to be real. He didn’t even have to pinch himself to check.

“A boy. You’re going to have another son.” Sherlock uttered quietly, looking away, hands in his pants pockets. Greg’s son Matthew was just turning sixteen, and his daughter Emma was just seven. Now at forty-two, he was having another child. The man was stunned. This wasn’t the reaction Sherlock expected. He expected violence, a right hook in the face, not this amount of shock, this amount of hurt. He deduced anger, not this. But then again, this was much harder to take. The deduction of violence was a hopeful prediction on his part. Sherlock hadn’t wanted this.

Lestrade wiped a hand down his face, the encroaching hangover and the pain of finding out all of this were bringing unwanted tears to his eyes. “Why did she do this?” His inquiry was barely audible, the question partially redundant. He couldn’t’ figure it out, it all so unlike Molly yet felt completely like her, he just couldn’t see why.

“We don’t know.” John met Lestrade’s eyes and looked as angry as Lestrade thought he should feel. But really he just felt hurt from being betrayed. Lestrade knew what John thought, this was all incredibly unfair of Molly to do to his friend, and he was right. “She says she’s trying to protect you. She claims it was something you said…” John hoped that would jog his memory.

“I didn’t say anything!” Lestrade protested angrily. He went over the times that they had spent together again and again and couldn’t remember a thing he could have possibly said to make her do this. There was something he couldn’t see, something that had happened he couldn’t recall. It was itching somewhere in the back of his brain, but he couldn’t think of it. They had never even discussed starting a family, or even of things becoming more serious than they had been. He had thought at the time that everything had been fine, and now he could see how incredibly wrong he had been.

“Well you must have because she’s in Hastings for a reason, Greg!” John combated Greg’s anger with his own. If the man didn’t know what he had done, there was no way for them to fix this now.

“I gotta get out of here.” Lestrade got up and started to stumble blindly towards the stairs.

“So what are you going to do?” Sherlock wondered out loud, stepping towards his friend. “Are you going to just sit in your lonely, miserable flat and continue to drink yourself numb?” He couldn’t let Lestrade leave without the confidence that he would go see Molly and make an effort to bring her back home.

“Yeah that sounds about right.” Lestrade agreed flippantly with a miserable expression, turning to leave again. He couldn’t stay here any longer.

“You should go and see her.” Now Sherlock was prodding at Lestrade to get him to show any sort of emotion whatsoever. He had to admit to these things, the hurt wasn’t going to go away simply because he drank, the three men in 221B’s sitting room all knew that.

“Why?!“ Greg was outraged. Lestrade finally got into Sherlock‘s space, angry. Angry at the world, angry at the both of them, angry at her. Just angry. “Why is this about what I should do?! What I’ve done to make her go there?! Why is this not about what she’s done to me?! She’s left me. She left all of us. But somehow this is about what I didn’t do right and what I should do!” His chest was heaving as he licked his lips.

“Because we’ve gone to see her already, so has Mycroft, and still she just refuses to come back.” Sherlock thought that was clear enough.

“And that’s somehow my fault?! Something for me to fix?!” Greg didn’t understand how he could somehow repair this simply by going out there to see Molly, to justify her behavior.

“Well nothing’s worked.” Sherlock explained. “We were hoping you would want to go see her.” John and Sherlock exchanged a glance. Nope this was not how he thought this would go at all. Lestrade was embittered, not set on getting her back.

“What if I don’t want to see her?” Lestrade’s jaw worked as he shook his head. There was really no reason for him to go, not now. That was clear. Apparently nothing was changing Molly’s mind.

“Don’t lie to us Greg. Even I can see it, it’s obvious. Why do you drink yourself to the bottom of a bottle every night?” John spoke up giving Lestrade a disbelieving look. Sherlock looked to John and then back to Lestrade with a raised eyebrow. Neither man was buying it. If he really didn’t love Molly, he wouldn’t be drinking, well not as much. He would be seeing other women. He wouldn’t have followed them to 221B either. He would have asked, let the moment pass between the three of them and continued drinking at the bar. No, both of his friends could see how he was pining. How he was half empty without Molly there.

“Well I don’t want to see her. So leave it alone. The both of you. Alright? Just leave me alone.” Lestrade turned and walked out without listening for them to get his attention again. He was done for the night.

John and Sherlock listened to the front door slam and Sherlock moved to follow his friend.

“Let him go, Sherlock.” John stopped Sherlock from following Lestrade down the steps.

“But John-” Sherlock tried to protest.

“Leave it! Sherlock, alright? For now, leave it. He’s hurting, he’ll change his mind.” John picked up his cup and Sherlock’s and poured out more tea, he brought the cups back to their chairs and sat down. He opened up a book and sighed, trying to calm himself before going back home.

“How John? How can you possibly know he’ll change his mind?” Sherlock questioned, perturbed with confusion, coming before the hearth to stand in front of John. This wasn’t what he had wanted to happen at all. Like an experiment that didn’t give him the results he wanted.

“Because he loves her, and he’ll do anything to get her back.” John put down his book looking up at Sherlock, holding his page with a finger. The one thing Sherlock couldn’t comprehend, human emotion. That was John’s forte. He knew people very well. Sherlock sat down and took a calming sip of tea.

“I hope you’re right John. I have a feeling that if this continues they won’t be able to fix it.” Sherlock brought his steepled hands before his lips. In his mind palace, the door to Lestrade’s room that connected to his child’s and Molly’s was being slowly walled over with cement blocks and rebar. It was disturbing to watch, knowing he’d have to go in with a blow torch now. He really hated change of this sort, it messed with the whole dynamic of his life. His brain always constantly distracted from the problems at hand trying to work to fix his daily routine.

“I know, mate. I know.” John concurred without looking up, turning a page of the novel he was reading. Sherlock picked up his violin and began plucking at it, tuning it and plucking again. John would go home eventually to Mary and Imogen, reporting what had happened to a concerned Mary, who understood his and Sherlock’s worries completely. But she would be right, telling them there was nothing more they could do and like she said, this was something for Molly and Lestrade to sort out themselves. Sherlock would continue his work. Everything would continue even though Molly wasn’t there, but like when Sherlock was gone, things just weren’t the same.

 

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Molly sat at Gladys’s kitchen table and picked at her dinner. The entire kitchen was out of 1965, but it was subdued in a way that made it still palatable and really, something Molly would have done in her own kitchen. The retro air of the room was precious and the yellow of the kitchen table and chairs wasn’t unsightly like some 70’s kitchen could be. Molly’s eyes roved over the room until they settled on the almost full plate in front of her. She really tried to make a concerted effort to take care of herself. She took her vitamins, ate what she could. There were always lunches with BJ and Stacey, who would be in an uproar if she didn’t seem to be eating. But she just struggled to find the urge to eat. The baby was kicking in protest at her mother not eating, smelling the food. But Molly just didn’t have an appetite, no reason for it, but no will to go about the routine of providing herself and her child with sustenance.

Gladys was well into being finished with her meal, and her discerning eye noticed that Molly hadn’t eaten much of her meal at all. And the old woman had gone through a great deal to buy foods and make meals that would be easier on the stomach, nicer on the digestion, anything she could think of to tempt Molly to eat. So far, nothing worked. Mostly the girl just hid in her room, but she supposed Molly was trying to tempt her own will into having an appetite by eating in front of others. That almost never worked.

“You know you need to eat, dear. If not for yourself, then do it for the baby. You’re much too thin for a mother this far along. It’s not at all healthy.” Molly took a nibble of food and immediately regretted the decision, putting her fork down. Gladys gave a frustrated sigh. “You know Molly I’ve been very patient with you, haven’t bothered you to ask why you’re here. I’m mostly a woman that keeps to herself, people love telling me gossip but I never ask others.” Molly nodded in understanding, giving Gladys a polite smile. Gladys laid a hand on Molly’s arm. Her hands were warm and oddly reassuring. “You know if you talk, just have a little conversation that might help you to eat. If you’re not paying attention to it, the eating will just fly by.” Gladys encouraged. Molly picked up her fork again, so did Gladys.

“So who were all those men visiting you?” Gladys asked curiously. She had heard about Sherlock and John while shopping in town, and Mycroft had introduced himself to Gladys, and absolutely refused to call her anything except Mrs. Lowell no matter what she said. They were all strange men, very strange men.

“They’re all my friends, more family than friends really.” Molly took a bite, allowing Gladys to relax and continue eating herself.

“But none of them are the father I take it.” Gladys observed. Molly smiled at this.

“No, no they’re not. But we’re all friends. Mycroft’s brother Sherlock was here with his best friend John.” Molly explained. Her hunger was finally catching up with her and she was now eating the way she normally would. Gladys smiled at this but didn’t draw attention to this comfortable development.

“Where did you live with these friends of yours before coming to Hastings? I don’t believe you were a doctor in the traditional sense. Caring for people doesn’t seem to be your strength.” Gladys casually observed. She had heard from Stacey that while Molly was a decent sort to provide a listening ear, she wasn’t very helpful in a medical crisis.

Molly laughed at that. “London. I live- well had been living- in London. I was a pathologist. I did post mortems. That’s how I met Sherlock and Gr- well, that’s how I met my friends.” Molly almost slipped and said Greg’s name out loud. Gladys watched Molly shake her head like she was forgetting herself. Like there was someone she was about to mention but didn’t want to talk about.

“So why are you not with them?” Molly shrugged and Gladys tightened her lips, finally not able to avoid the question any longer. Molly was almost finished with her meal, anyway. “Why are you not with the father of you child, dear? Does it have something to do with you being with child?” At the question finally coming out into the air between them, Molly politely put her fork down and wiped her mouth, finished with her meal for good this time. Gladys wordlessly got up from the yellow metal table and cleaned off the dirty dishes, put away the food and ran the water for the pots to soak. She returned to the table with some biscuits and tea for the both of them. Molly took a sip gratefully, even though it was only weak tea. She felt tears coming to her eyes unbidden.

“I ran away. I couldn’t- I dunno, I just couldn’t stay there.” Molly explained looking away from Gladys’s seeing gaze.

“May I say something, dear?” At Molly’s nod, Gladys continued. “You’re not like those women in that clinic where you‘ve been working. They haven’t the family you do. These men and all your friends back in London care for you a great deal. And you’re more miserable than all of those poor lasses put together, and they have more reason than you to be miserable. We both know that. So I can’t help wondering, we’re all wondering. If you’re so sad about being here, why stay? I feel like you’re afraid to face something. You can’t run away from things, Molly. You’ll be running all your life.”

“I can’t- I can’t go back. Not yet. I can’t travel now anyway. Not until I have the baby.” Molly looked like she regretted that fact a bit, but it was too late to fix it now. She gave the elder woman a sad smile. Gladys nodded in understanding.

“But why did you come here in the first place? Was it the father of your child? Did he do something awful? Did he threaten you? You know Molly, dear, if you say it, it might make it easier.” Gladys encouraged. Having the clinic here, Molly knew that most would assume the worst of Greg. But Molly’s ire rose to defend him.

“No! Greg isn’t like that.” Molly let out a gasp, realizing she had said his name out loud for the first time in months, though he was always on her mind. Her chest squeezed at the realization.

“What is he like then?” Gladys’s eyes twinkled, even though her face remained serious.

Molly stood up from the table and went to her bag, digging out the mobile she hadn’t turned back on since getting her Hastings phone. She came back to the table and turned it on. Once it was running, she turned the phone around to show Gladys the picture of herself and Greg on the lock screen. He was looking at her with a serious face, only a slight smile at the corners, but with love in his bright, half lidded eyes. Molly was laughing, facing the camera, her smile wide, and her eyes crinkled in laughter with tears in the corners, she remembered that moment when they had first started dating. He had learned she was ticklish and was taking pictures while she was squirming and distracted. She remembered fondly how the mood changed after the tickling to something interesting and soon they had found themselves in bed together, never looking back. She had found the picture on her phone later and it was one of the best pictures she had ever taken. Gladys smiled at the photo, seeing what a happy Molly actually looked like. She was a beautiful girl, but she sparkled when she smiled.

“That’s him, that’s Greg.” Molly whispered, tears spilling down from her eyes. She wiped at them until they stopped and then chased the wetness from her eyes with her fingers.

“He’s a devil that one. I can tell by those brown eyes. His best feature I’d wager, and that silver hair too. No doubt he’s a man that would get you into a fair amount of trouble.” Gladys joked eyeing Molly’s almost fully rounded womb as proof enough of that fact. Molly laughed, glad to laugh, sniffling against sobs that threatened to start her crying again. Damn hormones.

“You look so happy together, what happened?” Gladys questioned, sadly wondering what could go wrong. “Did he say something that upset you?”

“Well…” Molly hesitated wondering what she could and couldn’t say to the woman.

“Was is something about having a family?” Gladys questioned, at Molly’s mouth popping opened she nodded in comprehension. “I thought so.”

“How did you know?” Molly wondered. Amazed at the older woman’s insight.

“I was married dear. It’s not a great leap.” Gladys explained. She talked about how her Stanley had said something so stupid once he spent the next week on the couch. “Men do it all the time and they never know that they’ve done it. So tell me… what happened?” Molly took a breath and started.

“We were together one night, after…” Molly winced wondering how to explain this to the older woman, a blush coming to her cheeks.

“Yes dear, I know what comes before the ‘after,‘ I raise sheep and I was married.” Gladys rolled her eyes at the younger woman.

“And we were talking… he said- I asked how he felt about children, about getting married, and he said he didn’t want to go through all that again. He‘s divorced with two children of his own. He already has kids, he doesn‘t want to complicate things by having another one with me.” Molly explained looking down at the cup of tea in her hands.

“Is he sleepy after making love?” Gladys questioned. Molly blinked, blushing even further.

“Well he dozes sometimes, but we stay awake to sometimes talk.” Molly bit her lip, knowing that maybe she had created this situation entirely on her own. There had been nights when she would still be talking and he would be snoring.

“Oh for goodness sake! You trapped him! Even I can see that and I’m a woman too, after sex no man really has thought enough for anything more than an ‘I love you.’ Certainly not such a serious conversation as that. He probably didn’t know what he was saying dear!” Gladys shook her head, wondering if Molly shared any of this with anyone. They would have told her the same thing. Then Gladys frowned wondering if she had anyone to confide in at all. “Do you have a mother or father, Molly?” Gladys questioned with a quizzical look.

“No, my mother died when I was four and my father died of cancer while I was in university.” Molly explained, at Gladys’s ‘ah’ of acknowledgement Molly raised an eyebrow. What did she see about Molly that Molly herself didn’t understand?

“I was like you once, after I was married to Stanley. I didn’t have parents either, and my friends weren’t yet married so I didn’t have anyone to go to, to speak with anyone about what we were going through. I was having trouble getting pregnant and had even miscarried, after that having babies wasn’t possible the doctors told me. We still tried but it just never happened. I do love children, the mothers that stay here when there isn’t any room at the clinic bring their children back to visit. I used to have Stacey’s job before I had to hand it over to her. Stanley blamed my job on the miscarriage and our struggle to have a baby of our own. That’s why he spent a week on the couch. I asked if we could adopt but he didn’t want children that weren’t our own. So we had to be content with our life the way it was, which was lovely really. I sometimes wondered if I had had someone to talk to, someone to go to, if they could have helped me figure out why I wasn’t having children.” Gladys told Molly her sad tale, patting the hand that Molly reached out to grab for her own.

“But he said it with such certainty, I just- I can’t take back what I did. I was so afraid of seeing his love leave as soon as I told him that I was pregnant, that he would think it all some huge mistake.” Molly took a shuddering breath.

“No, not the man in that photo, dear. He loves you.” Gladys smiled sadly, seeing how easily Molly could convince herself of that.

“Yes now, maybe not even now, if my friends have told him. But he’s a copper- that’s how we met. I’m the pathologist that works on the post mortems of murders for his division of the yard- he’ll try to do the right thing, do his duty, offer to marry me. Then we’ll have this family together that he said- and I knew- I knew- he didn’t want and even if he still somehow loves me, over the years he’ll grow to resent this family- this life- I’ve anchored him to, and he’ll stop loving me. He’ll hate the baby, his son.” Molly finished, with a small cry, finally airing the thoughts she kept in for so long. Gladys was taken aback. One sentence muttered in passing by a man that was half-asleep sent Molly halfway across the country to a place she didn’t know. “I didn’t want to face that pain, I wanted the baby and I want him. When I found out that I was pregnant I knew I couldn’t have one without the other. That’s why I came to Hastings, so I could just delay losing Greg. For a while at least…” Molly looked away with a sigh.

“I don’t think that’s true dear. Even if that’s what he had said to you, I don’t think he’d say that if someone asked him about you. You can’t know where his head is at.” Gladys encouraged, when Molly shook her head, the older woman grimaced, Molly was decided and nothing was changing her mind about this.

“Even if he came now, I would know it was just because he felt like it was his duty, not because he wanted to- wanted me. I left so that if he wanted to move on while I had the baby here in Hastings, he could do that without having to take care of me.” Molly finished, full of remorse for the love and happiness she had left behind in London. With this baby, everything was changed. For once, she had done the selfish thing. She had wanted this baby, body and soul and now she alone was paying the price for it.

“I don’t think this is true. I really don’t Molly. Do me a favor, in these last few months before you go back to London, think about how much he loves you, how much he probably still loves you. Think about how much you love him. You probably have spent a lot of time thinking about these horrible thoughts since you heard you were pregnant, but not a lot about how much you love him and how this baby was made with all the love you two share. I think he loves you a great deal and your selling that love and your love for him awfully short.” Molly nodded in acquiescence and got up from the table. She was tired and emotionally overwrought from confessing the truth and stood to leave the kitchen to go to bed. She was stopped from leaving with a hand on her wrist. Gladys looked to her face with pleading eyes, knowing her words didn’t really sink in. “Please think about what I’ve said. You owe it to yourself, especially your baby, to try for a life with this man you love so much you’d sacrifice yourself to make his life better.” Molly nodded again with a half-smile, leaving the old woman alone in the kitchen. Gladys cleaned up the kitchen standing at the sink with a sigh. It was such a terrible business this. Gladys hadn’t known the last time she had heard such a painful tale, and she hoped Molly would find her happiness. The gentle woman deserved it. Gladys looked out the window of her kitchen to the back of her house, thinking of memories of her own sad life. The moon shone over the rolling waves, the thundering sounds of the rolling sea cut by baying sheep in the distance.

 

\----…----…----…----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to say that will be it for now. Until I post again, of course. Don't worry plenty more to come.
> 
> I know what you're thinking! But stay with me, dear readers!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	7. Six Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment Molly has dreaded for six months finally comes to pass. Lestrade finds his love where he left it, with Molly.  
> Is Lestrade too hurt to fix what he hadn't known was broken? Will Molly let her guard down and let Lestrade in? 
> 
> The story continues...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abject pleas and apologies for not getting this out until just now. I tried to post it Sunday night, but I just got a new laptop and I told the computer to close chrome in the middle of my working on the chapter. I got frustrated and just put it aside. I had every intention of doing it Monday during the day, but alas I was out in Jersey getting my car back from the shop, and the tires were too old and the back tire had a bulge in it that was so obvious it was ready to blow. I made it back home to PA in one piece! But now I'm posting this new chapter on technically Tuesday and not either Sunday or Monday! 
> 
> But fear not! As penance I shall post again on Wednesday even though it will really be the next day! You have my word! 
> 
> I'm also a bit worried about the pace of the story, particularly at the end and if issues would normally be drawn out, hurt feelings would be kept on a simmer, those kinda things, but you all seem to be liking the pace of the story anyway! So the beat goes on!!!
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _28 weeks_ ]

\----…----…----…----

Sherlock and John don’t know how it came about but they were glad when the text came. 

_Off to Hastings, dunno when I’ll be back. Dimmock and Donovan will take over my cases until I do. I’ve told them if you don’t play nice, they can tell you to piss off until then. Behave, Sherlock. - GL_

They were both relieved that he finally decided to go out there and see Molly. Though Sherlock grumbled at having to deal with Donovan and Dimmock without Lestrade there to be the buffer between.

Greg hadn’t known really how he came to the decision either, he was just walking around London one night on his day off, his kids were with the wife even though it was his weekend, and nothing was the same without Molly there. Home wasn’t home any more without her. So he went back to his flat and found himself packing a bag. He called Donovan, she said it wouldn’t be a problem, anything to make Lestrade no longer a bear to work with, and he was off in his car for Hastings. He spent the whole car ride wondering what he would say to Molly, and also how she would look when he got there. He could picture her, in a backyard playing with a little boy, her stomach round with another baby as he watched from a house that would be theirs. It warmed him throughout, in a way he hadn’t thought possible again. It was true he hadn’t wanted a family, he hadn’t given it a thought. And he didn’t want a family, if it wasn’t with Molly. But with Molly, now that the promise of something more was there, he wanted everything. 

He needed to get Molly back. 

When he finally arrived in Hastings it was too late to go get Molly, so he stopped at the hotel in town and there was room available for him. The woman behind the counter seemed more than just a little glad to help him, a few charming smiles and she gave the room up gladly, though it was her last. So he went to sleep, trying to dry out from his six month long binge. A couple drinks a night, especially after a bad case - or one involving Sherlock - was a habit, this had been a bender that would have put a student at uni to shame. He was ashamed enough thinking about it. A good night sleep and a hearty breakfast would fix that, but Greg wondered what it was going to take to fix his relationship with Molly.

\----…----…----…----

The next morning found a now very pregnant Molly, ignorant of the new face in Hastings, waddling through the clinic and checking in on her patients. She was still actively working throughout the hospital, though Stacey had limited her work to the less stressful cases. Women needing regular medical care, like bandage changing, or constant watching were being seen to by BJ, the regular rounds were Molly’s responsibility. Corinne was doing very well with her new baby boy, Bo, and Molly had trouble not tearing up at the sight, seeing how she would very soon deliver her son here. The little one was very strong and it was time to give him his final round of vaccines and the final check up before he and Corinne headed off to her new life. She had secured a position at another clinic and would help there on a part-time basis so that she could work on getting a degree allowing her to eventually work there full-time. It was going to be a very good life for the two and Molly was happy to see them get the happy ending they deserved. It made for a very satisfying job. Molly could understand why Stacey and BJ were so passionate about their work here. Happy endings gave them in turn their own happy ending. 

Molly’s back was to the door to the exam room as Corrine watched Molly check over her son, distracting the baby with his favorite silly faces. They hadn’t yet given baby Bo his vaccines, using this moment of calm so that she could give his check up. Everything was normal and he was growing into a strong young boy. 

Molly was just about to ready his shots when a knock came to the exam room door. 

“Excuse me, I wonder if either of you know where I might find Molly Hooper?” A familiar grumble of a voice passed right through Molly’s chest. She turned around just as Corinne was pointing in her direction. There he stood, flesh and blood, not a figment of her imagination. His face was grave with all they had to talk about, but his brown eyes were warm and sparkling, somehow even deeper than they were before; full of emotion. Corrine watched curiously as the two exchanged a look, noting how Molly’s cheeks burned with a blush. The man gave a sigh of relief at having finally found her. “Wotcher, Molly.” 

“Greg…” Her body felt like a bucket of cold water was being dumped down her back. Molly had half a presence of mind to put her hand over her stomach, protective instincts of motherhood taking over, before everything went black. Molly fainted, reaching out to break her own fall and only pulling down instruments off of the wall next to the exam bed. It was all too much for her to take in, in her weakened state. Greg was at her side in a second, telling the young girl sitting next to him to get help. She scooped her son up in her arms and ran to get Stacey. Lestrade selfishly used the time to run his hands over her face and combed her hair away from it. His heart was full, she was even more beautiful than the Molly he had been dreaming about. She glowed, even though the shadows under her eyes told of her difficulty finding sleep without him by her side. When Stacey came in, she immediate gave Molly a thorough checking over. Nothing was amiss but she was out cold. 

“Who are you?“ Stacey questioned as Lestrade lifted her effortlessly, his mouth making a sour expression as to how light she felt. Much too light for being an expectant mother, a sign she wasn‘t eating correctly. That wasn’t happening any longer if he could help it, not when she was carrying his son. There had been nights towards the end when he would have thought he would have broken his back lifting his ex-wife when she had been expecting Matt and Emma. What were these people doing when they were supposed to be taking care of Molly? 

“I’m Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. Her boyf- the father of the baby.” Greg refused to call himself merely her boyfriend. He was going to correct that little detail and soon, he hoped. 

“Oh!” Stacey smiled glad to finally meet the man. She hovered nearby and directed Lestrade to a more private room. Once there Molly was laid down onto the hospital bed and Stacey came into the room closing the door. “I’m glad to finally meet the man that drove Molly to us, she’s been a delight.” The compliment about Molly was sincere, there’s no one on earth who couldn’t love Molly. He supposed he deserved their accusations, he wished he knew the reason behind it. 

“Yes well I’m here now. And I’m going to take care of her from here on out. She’s much too thin thanks to the care she received here.” Greg noted pointedly over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off Molly. Greg put a hand around her face, thumb running along her cheek and lips, smiling when she leaned into his touch in her sleep. She wouldn’t be rousing for a while, her body needing the sleep. 

“That wasn’t our fault, Detective Inspector. Molly would eat in front of us but we couldn’t hover over her day in and day out. If you had cared about her in the first place she wouldn’t be here now.” Stacey bristled at the suggestion that they didn’t take care of her. Greg’s shoulders sagged a little at the dig about his worthiness. He might not be worthy, but he was still in love with her. But was that enough?

“Look I know all that. But I’m here now, she needs some rest obviously. Can I take her somewhere? Where is she staying?” Anything to afford the two of them some much needed privacy. He was tired of other people meddling with their business. He desired some alone time with his Molls. At Greg’s pained expression Stacey’s attitude softened. Sometimes she forgot that other than her BJ, there were good men in the world still. 

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me. It’s not fair to blame you. She’s the one that came running here. We’re just very protective of her. It’s not often we meet men that live up to the standard around here. It’s a nice reminder you all do still exist.” Stacey smiled. Lestrade was glad that while Molly was out here without him she had been well protected. “Molly’s living with an older widow by the name of Mrs. Gladys Lowell. If you follow the main road in front of the clinic, you’ll see a little cottage attached to a sheep farm. That‘s the place.” At Lestrade’s curt nod, he scooped Molly up and made a hasty exit out of the clinic with Molly curled up in his arms. Stacey followed them out with Molly’s bag and Lestrade took it with a polite smile. Stacey watched Lestrade’s car pull away wondering what trials awaited the couple. 

\----…----…----…----

The sheep farm and home of Gladys Lowell was just where Stacey said it would be. The elder woman came running from the stables where she was tending to the animals asking who he was, helping him bring Molly into the house, and why Molly was in his arms. Upon hearing his name the woman didn’t question him further, she fussed about him and tried to ply him with tea and biscuits. He fended her off valiantly even about staying in the house with Molly, he still had a reservation at the hotel and Molly probably wouldn’t want him to stay at the moment. Though in truth he didn’t know what Molly wanted from him, this side of Molly he wasn’t familiar with, making him question how well he knew Molly at all. Gladys shook her head, knowing that Molly was sometimes too stubborn for her own good. She brought a weak tea in for Molly saying the girl need to drink something when she woke up. He took the tea wordlessly, turning his attention back to Molly. Gladys announced into the room that she was going back to feed her sheep and to call if they needed anything. She gave a hearty chuckle realizing in that moment she wasn’t really being listened to at all. 

Now that they were alone, Greg had a chance to really see her figure and how it had changed. How it had become fertile with bearing the bounty of pending motherhood. His eyes roamed over her form greedily. He wouldn’t be happy until she admitted that the ache he felt in his own chest echoed in hers as well. It was hell without being able to love her, their lives were so interwoven now anything else felt wrong. She was going to have his baby, that meant a lot to him. There was still that connection with his ex-wife though he was loathed to admit it, because she gave him Matt and Emma. He loved, and would provide for all of his children, that was always his main concern. That love for his children also extended to his ex-wife, who bore them and brought them into this world. That connection you couldn’t take away from the parents. He never thought he’d have this again as he gently put his hands on her stomach. The answering kick was powerful, the little thing knew his father’s touch. He looked forward to seeing his son, and also being a father once again, but this time to their child. Seeing Molly’s new form, and feeling the affection grow for the son he would have made Greg’s heart swell with more love than he thought possible. 

Molly began to stir, but Greg refused to lift his hand from where it was, letting her feel his intentions. Greg was here now, and his touch would ground Molly to keep her from flying away again. He kept his eyes on her rounded stomach, not meeting her gaze. He heard a gasp once she was fully awake. He turned to meet her look then and his stomach swooped seeing the tears in her eyes. She seemed to be in pain, elated, and in love all at once at seeing him there.

“It wasn’t a dream.” Molly whispered looking to him in awe. At first she had thought he was a ghost, her hormone addled mind creating a hallucination. Her gaze went to her stomach where his hand still laid, his familiar touch warmed her from the inside, seared onto her skin, but it also cut into her like a knife. She sat up, dislodging his touch. Replacing the space where his hand had been with her own, the warmth underneath her hand was embedded now into her flesh. He said nothing, and instead occupied his hand that tingled from touching her by handing over the cuppa Gladys had made for her. She still looked much too pale, that worried him.

“I like that Gladys, she’s a pip.” Lestrade tried to make polite conversation. 

“Yes she’s lovely.” Molly looked to Greg drinking some of her tea before putting it aside. The warmth from the tea revived her some, but she would need to eat. “Listen, Greg I’m sorry you felt the need to come all the way here but may I ask why?” 

“I suppose I should be asking you the same question.” Greg raised an eyebrow in inquiry, licking his lips. Molly closed her eyes, and took a breath to steady herself. That unconscious motion would always drive her to distraction. And the pregnancy had made her hunger for him so violently, it was painful.

“Greg-” She tried to explain putting her hands protectively over her stomach, trying to protect the baby from the impending argument. 

“No I really do wonder Molly, what drove you all the way here to bloody Ipswich-” Greg growled in frustration.

“Hastings.” Molly correction with a small smile. 

“Whatev- look, Molly, you disappeared. You lied to me about the most important thing in the world. I wanna know why.” Greg felt at the very least he was owed that.

“I-I can’t.” Molly shook her head, fighting off tears. They came so easily now that her pregnancy was nearing its end.

“Well try.” Lestrade encouraged gently, enclosing her small hand in his as it laid on her stomach. 

“You wouldn’t understand.” Molly turned away from Greg into the couch for comfort, once again none to subtly dislodging their touch. It hurt, but he let it go for now.

“Why don’t you give me a try?” Greg suggested. Surely she didn‘t think him that much of an idiot.

“Please Greg. I can’t do this now.” Molly pleaded, not feeling well. The longer he would stay here, the more painful it would be when he finally left.

“Well you had better because if I leave I’m not coming back.” Lestrade warned, his eyebrows knitted together when that seemed to relieve her.

“That’s good, you’ll move on and forget about me.” Molly muffled a sob.

“How is that any good? There’s been nothing but pain without you.” The thought that he could forget about Molly so easily was abhorrent, an insult to the love they had shared.

“But then you’ll find someone new and there won’t be.” Molly didn’t look quite as happy with that as she tried to make him believe. Her words could lie to him, but Lestrade saw it completely on her face. He felt the same way. There was never anyone one else for either of them now.

“That may have worked if you weren’t pregnant but that changes a lot of things. And I would never want anyone but you.” His jaw worked against the anger that was brewing inside, it caused his voice to be nothing more than a rumble that made her shiver. 

“You’re just saying that!” Molly was openly sobbing now.

“No I’m not!!!” Lestrade couldn’t help his rolling emotions. How could he make her see? Without her, he was lost.

“You think that you’re not, but you are, I know you Greg. Now that you know I’m pregnant you’re going to feel responsible. You’ll want to marry me and start a family. That you have some sort of duty to fulfill.” She was nothing more than a ball and chain to him now.

“This isn’t about duty Molly. Any guy who wanted to call himself a man should feel responsible for the life of the son they’re having with their wi- girlfriend. And I want to start a family with the woman I love. This isn’t the 1900’s, Molls, if I wanted to perform ‘my duty’ I’d just write you a check every month.” That duty he already fulfilled monthly for his ex-wife, but he did that for Matt and Emma, not for her. Lestrade wondered how this had gotten so far from him. How had he expected this to have been easy?

“I don’t want your money.” Molly mumbled into the air between them, her body caving in on itself from the emotional upheaval. The love she felt for him had left her hollowed out.

“That’s not what I meant.” Greg sighed, exasperated, trying to calm himself. 

“Still there’s no need for you to do this. I know you don’t want it. The baby. Me. A family. It’s alright, I’m not asking you to commit to anything.” In truth, she just wanted him to go away so she could have this baby in peace.

“No you’re not asking, but its what I want. I want a family with you.” He asserted. 

“No you don’t.” Molly shook her head, Lestrade saying that just made it worse. 

“I just said I did!” Lestrade didn’t understand it. How could she be convinced of this when he said the opposite?

“No you don’t you said you didn’t.” Molly corrected him.

“When did I say that?” Lestrade wondered.

“You don’t remember?” Molly questioned thinking how odd it was when the moment that stood out to her. It was her favorite torture to play that on repeat.

“No but this could be why everyone else was pointing a finger in my direction.” Lestrade went to the window overlooking the side of the house facing the sea. If only he could remember. 

“It was the night we fought about Sherlock and my keeping of his secret.” Molly watched his back, her eyes gobbling up the lines of his body voraciously from where she sat unobserved. 

It took Lestrade a minute to piece it together. “Nuh- No. You can’t possibly have done ALL OF THIS!!” Lestrade waved his arms around the little cottage living room comically. “Because of something I said after sex almost eight months ago.” 

Molly winced. “Yes?” 

“Molly I was half asleep. More than half asleep, I don’t even remember saying it. I remember us having an amazing shag, then we talked and then I fell sleep. I don‘t even remember anything passed my saying how wonderful you are.” Greg let his arms fall akimbo at his waist. There was nothing left for him to do if she trusted his love so little.

“But you did say it, and I know you meant it. You have your own kids, the ex-wife. I don’t want to upset their relationship with you by interfering with any of that.” How was Greg supposed to explain this to his children, to his ex-wife? She hadn’t even given that a thought, thinking only of herself holding Greg down with her son and his sense of responsibility to this baby. Their son and herself were just another knot of complication to him. It could be easily undone if she simply just faded away.

“So you were just going to disappear and not tell me? Hoping that if you went away I’d just move on and pretend nothing happened, that we don’t have a child between us.” Greg saw it all now, but he questioned how she could think herself of such small importance to him. Molly was everything.

“Well it’s what I think would happen, or you would commit to having a family with me to do the right thing and then the inevitable would happen.” Molly looked away, recalling old dreams from her time here. They had started as soon as she was away from London. She thought she was homesick, but now they felt like predictions of the future.

“What would inevitably happen other than that we would be happy?” Lestrade questioned, all he could see happening was the life he had always wanted since his divorce. Since he had finally gotten together with Molly. 

“You would slowly grow to resent me.” Molly didn’t look him in the eye as she said it, fearing the way he looked at her would say otherwise. 

“I would, wha- Molly you can’t be serious?!” Lestrade questioned incredulously.

“You don’t have to agree with me Greg, but one day you’ll thank me.” Molly encouraged him to see the truth she had accepted, that she knew too well.

“I doubt that.” Lestrade growled thunderously. A luscious shiver ran down Molly’s spine.

“You will. You’ll find someone that wants the kind of lifestyle you’re looking for and forget about me.” Molly argued calmly, this version of the future she had long ago accepted.

“I don’t want a lifestyle. I want a life, with you!” Lestrade pleaded for her to see, see what he was aching to have with her. He came to sit before her again. He wasn’t some young moron afraid of losing his bachelorhood, he was in his forties and wanted to come home to her and children they would have. He wanted comfort only the life with a wife and family could provide. His wife, his Molls. 

“You’re saying that just because I’m pregnant.” Molly looked down at her swollen stomach, shaking her head, resigned.

“I would have said that before you were pregnant if you had asked.” Greg was grasping at straws now, they were going around in circles. 

“I did and you said you didn’t.” Molly reminded him.

“If you had asked when I was awake! I was more than half asleep, barely conscious, when you asked me.” Lestrade laughed in shock, not believing that Molly could say this.

“Doesn’t matter.” Molly thought his knee jerk reaction closer to the truth than he would have formed completely awake and sober. Awake and sober, people lied. Half-asleep, or drunk, your inhibitions didn’t allow for lying. 

“It does, because if I was awake I would have said the truth, what I actually think. I would have discussed it with you. I would have told you that I wanted a life with you.” Lestrade wanted it so badly he could taste it.

“But you didn’t-” Molly disagreed, her voice quivering.

“Well obviously it doesn’t matter what I say to you. You’ve convinced yourself that this is what you want. But that’s alright, I’ll prove you wrong Molly Hooper. I swear it.” Lestrade vowed angrily, tired of a conversation that was going nowhere. He stood to leave.

“Where are you going?” Molly asked, sitting up to follow his form. She didn’t want him to be here but now that he was, her whole being was starving and greedy for his presence.

“Out. I need some air.” Lestrade explained, stopping in the doorway to the hall.

“Are you going back to London?” Molly wondered, laying back down with no strength to keep herself upright.

“Do you want me to?” Greg questioned. He’d give her anything she asked. Anything. Even if that meant torturing himself by leaving her again.

“I think that would be best.” Molly was glad that the argument had finally run its course, she was exhausted.

“Fine, Molly, have it your way. For what its worth, I do love you.” Greg rumbled to her, voice heavy with feeling. If only he could make her see. He’d do anything for her.

“Goodbye.” Molly whispered burrowing into the couch, tears forming rivers down her face.

Greg found Gladys in the hallway, in the middle of taking off her farming clothes. If the detective didn’t know any better he would have said she was eavesdropping and he would have been right. But it was only out of concern for Molly’s well being. She needed this man in her life that was certain to Gladys. 

“I’ll be back.” Greg asserted in a whisper, giving a curt nod to the woman as he went to the door. She followed the man outside. 

“You’re just going to leave her?” Gladys questioned in wonder as he went to his car. She calmly watched him slam his hands against the car in anger, more at himself but also a little bit with Molly. At her lack of faith and trust in him. How had their relationship turned into this so quickly?

“No I have no intentions of leaving her, but she’s not going to come back to London with me now. So I’ll be at the hotel if something happens until the baby is born, or if you think she needs me.” Lestrade explained once he realized the old woman had been watching him. 

“I know, Deirdre told me, she’s my friend and runs the hotel. I have the number on speed dial.” Gladys explained with an understanding smile.

Lestrade regarded her with a quizzical brow, smiling. “You know Molly was very lucky to have you as a friend these past few months.”

“And Molly is very lucky to have you.” Gladys smiled in return for that. She felt it had been her duty to keep an eye on Molly when Greg couldn’t. She had known Molly was loved, but she had no idea just how much. That stubborn, foolish girl had no idea how lucky she was, what she was attempting to give up and it was going to ruin her life sooner than later if she wasn’t careful. 

“What do I do?” Greg questioned, his whole being absolutely lost as to a solution of how to fix this.

“I’m sorry she’s being so stubborn.” Gladys felt like Molly was the errant child she never had. She put a comforting hand on Lestrade’s shoulder where he was leaning on the car. She pretended not to notice him wipe at his face to remove a few errant tears. “You’ll have to show her your devotion to her until she finally realizes what she has.” 

“I love her, I tell her every day, isn’t that enough?” Lestrade questioned, tired of fighting. 

“Surprisingly no. I wish it were.” Gladys smiled empathetically. “She’s hurting. She spent so much time alone from such a young age that she reaches for loneliness, its her security blanket. She refuses to trust others. Why depend on others when she knows she can depend on herself?”

“So I did this?” Lestrade was appalled he hadn’t seen this sooner. 

“No she did this herself, she needed an excuse to run, and you unwittingly gave it to her.” Gladys corrected the poor man. He was not to blame for this. 

“How do I fix it?” There wasn’t anything he could see. 

“Stay and prove you’re not going to leave her ever. Come everyday.” Gladys encouraged. She’d let him in, even if under the guise of him keeping herself company.

“That shouldn’t sound as hard as its going to be.” Lestrade smiled morosely. 

“No nothing ever does. Now I’d love to stay and chat but I really should check on her.” Gladys saw he needed some time alone.

“I’ll be back, I’m not leaving, I just needed some air. I’ll go for a walk and be back to take her out to dinner.” Lestrade explained his head hanging, tired from the day he had. He wanted a drink, but knew it wouldn’t help, not now. Now he needed his head about him. 

“Alright, we’ll see you when you get back.” Gladys smiled. 

“Ta.” Lestrade nodded to the woman and walked towards the direction of the sea. 

The conversations he had with both Molly and Gladys gave Lestrade a lot to turn over in his head. He was halfway to the coastline when a ping came in on his phone. 

_Any luck? -SH_

Lestrade dialed the man’s number and waited for Sherlock to answer. He heard the click of someone picking up. 

“ _Yes?_ ” A bored voice came through the speaker in a droll, Lestrade heard noises he couldn’t explain in the background. 

“How do you bloody know what I’m doing?” Lestrade questioned angrily, looking around.

“ _Mycroft is watching you, obvious._ ” Sherlock said in a droll voice. Mycroft. Of course, Lestrade then noticed a distance camera facing in his exact direction, the all seeing eye.

“Well I’m going to tell the bastard to butt out in a minute.” Lestrade growled. As soon as he got off the ruddy phone with Sherlock.

“ _Can’t. Mycroft actually enjoys Molly’s company. He says to tread carefully by the way._ ” The noises in the background grew worse.

Lestrade sighed. “Well I haven’t had any luck so far.” 

A curse came over the phone and Lestrade could hear John yell in Sherlock’s direction, Baker Street, definitely an experiment. Sherlock yelled back at John before returning to their conversation. “ _So what are you planning to do?_ ”

“Why the sudden interest in what’s going on between Molly and myself, eh?” Why did they all have to butt in? Friends interfering is what pulled himself and Molly apart in the first place.

“ _Molly’s happiness is my ultimate concern. Without her happiness, my work descends into chaos._ ” Lestrade pursed his lips, seeing where the real concern lay for Sherlock.

“Uh-huh right, well Molly’s happiness is my concern now, thanks Sherlock.” Lestrade’s voice was tight on the phone with anger. 

“ _How do you plan on fixing it then?_ ” Sherlock wanted to hear his brilliant plan for putting their relationship back together and restoring order.

“I have a plan. I’m going to stay around her and prove to her that I love her and that I’ll stay with her through anything.” Lestrade explained. 

“ _So you plan to repeat the same action over and over again until she realizes you do actually want a family with her?_ ” Sherlock reiterated in disbelief.

“Yes. That’s it.” Greg wondered what part of this wasn’t self-explanatory.

“ _You do realize that’s the very definition of insanity Lestrade, correct?_ ” Lestrade could hear Sherlock smile into the phone, thinking the joke hilarious. He just didn’t get it. 

“No Sherlock, that’s love. Thanks for you concern. I’ll text you when Molly’s ready to come back to London. Ta, g’night!” Lestrade pressed the end button on his mobile with more force than necessary. It seemed that everyone was privy to their private life thanks to Mycroft bloody Holmes. 

_Thanks for keeping an eye on her, but I’m here now that’s no longer necessary. -GL_

_If that were the case I wouldn’t still be doing it Detective Inspector. You should go to her. -MH_

Greg looked in the direction of the little sheep farm in the distance. 

_Why? -GL_

_She seems hungry. She’s missing you, and has turned on the phone she’s kept off all this time to look at your picture. If you want her back, you presence is paramount. -MH_

Lestrade didn’t bother responding, pocketing his phone, except to send a nearby CCTV camera the finger. He didn’t see the answering half smile on the other side of the camera. He pulled his jacket closer against the ocean breeze, it was well into the spring but the salty breeze still blew cold. 

\----…----…----…---- 

Molly laid in her bed, curled around her stomach, waking to a hand on her shoulder. She saw the phone, long dark on her night stand first, pushing aside the feelings that swirled at remembering that she fell asleep crying after staring at his picture for quite some time. Greg. She both hoped and hated the idea that he might have taken her advice and went back to London.

“Molly, dear.” Molly then turned to see Gladys smiling down at her. Molly smiled back rubbing at her sandy eyes. The nap had done nothing for her eyes, almost swollen shut from the constant tears. 

“What is it?” Molly questioned wondering what would force Gladys to wake her up. Neither woman treaded upon the privacy of the other. Until now. 

“That Greg is back to get you for dinner. You need to eat, so I suggest you go with him.” Molly could have laughed at the way Gladys said this like she wouldn’t brook any arguments from the woman. Just like her own Gran would have if she had heard Molly hadn’t been eating. Molly sighed in defeat. 

“I‘m really not hungry, would you mind telling him to go away?” Molly laid her head back down on the pillow, eyes welling up with tears again. 

“Molly, I’m a patient lady, but I will not tolerate you getting ill, neither will I be your secretary and send him away. If you don‘t want to see him, want him to go away, you go downstairs and tell him yourself.” Gladys said with an angry face. Molly hadn’t seen this side of her before. 

“Alright tell him I’ll be right down.” Seeing she had no choice but to do as the woman bid her, Molly sat up with a sigh. If he continued like this, it would become harder and harder to separate herself from him. She’d have to move. To another country maybe, she had heard wonderful things about Sweden. She always appreciated the scenery while she watched Wallander. But she couldn’t escape him now, so she splashed some water on her face and did what little she could with her limited energy for her person. All she could manage was running a brush through her hair, with the rest he would have to be content. She grabbed her bag and made the slow waddle down the stairs. 

\----…----…----…----

Greg ignored another text message on his phone after the first one Sherlock sent. Mycroft had kept him updated with regular surveillance photos of Lestrade taking Molly out to dinner in Hastings. 

_Good luck and bring our Molly back home. - SH_

Lestrade didn’t respond so Sherlock sighed in frustration, until Imogen gurgled from her bouncy chair with curiosity. “I know Imogen, adults are ridiculous.” Sherlock smiled continuing to read to her from his Grey’s Anatomy. The more detailed the descriptions, the more Imogen smiled and bounced. Sherlock would even make noises typical of the organ or function Grey was describing. John and Mary had gone over to Molly’s apartment. She was very far along, and would return soon to London. Her apartment was no where near childproof or baby ready. They planned to surprise her. Mary was confident that she knew her best friend’s taste well enough to pick out things for her.

Sherlock obviously was in charge of babysitting Imogen. Though whether that decision was a wise one was still up for debate with Mary. She would probably wonder this quite often when she would hear Imogen quote from the book directly as she got older. Now, however, she gurgled as Sherlock turned the page and started in on the lymphatic system.

\----…----…----…----

In Hastings, Molly fought not to give into the need she felt to be in Lestrade’s arms. Every time she wasn’t looking directly at him, he used as a moment to hold her hand, pass a gentle caress none too subtly over her stomach, smooth the hair away from her face or tuck it behind her ear, or to thread her arm through his as they were walking. They were all painful reminders of the life she thought impossible. It was torture and she had been craving it the entire time she was here. And it was, Lestrade was here only out of a sense of responsibility. Once he saw that he didn’t owe her anything, wasn’t asking for anything, he’d hold onto his freedom, his bachelorhood, while he had the chance. 

It was her fault, and she would deal with it. Though if the price was Stuart, the baby she would soon see, it wasn’t really a sacrifice. 

Lestrade took them to a very romantic spot, and never left her side. It was both a pleasure and a torment. He pulled out Molly’s chair for her and helped her into it. He went around to chair on the other side and held out his hand, waiting for her to take it. She didn’t until he laid his hand on top of hers. Every touch filled her with love and left her aching. 

“I hope you don’t mind if I’m a little over attentive tonight. It’s been months since I’ve seen you.” That wasn’t a lie for Greg at all, nor did he have to pretend the feelings he expressed. He pushed aside the anger he felt at the lying gladly, so that he might have some time with Molly that he missed.

“Have you been seeing anyone else while I’ve been gone?” Molly tried not to give attention to his assertions of his feelings. She watched his eyebrows knit in offense at the idea that he would have done what she wanted while she had been away.

“No. I would never! There’s no one else Molly.” Lestrade squeezed her hand in affirmation. “There’s never going to be anyone else. I realized that when we hadn’t really been apart all that much before you left.” 

“Yes. I hope you’ve been sleeping well.” Molly didn’t have to tell him of her sleeping habits. He noticed plenty in the dark shadows under her eyes, and the paleness that told him she wasn’t eating enough, he was on the road to fixing that tonight. 

“Barely, I usually need to pass out in order to get some sleep.” Molly winced at the mention of his drinking. That being entirely her fault. Greg just gave himself a shrug and a self-deprecating smile. “You?” 

“Usually I’m so tired I can’t help sleeping, but I wake up sometimes at night-”

“And?” Lestrade looked to her hopefully. He just needed to know she felt the same way. That it killed her to reach over for nothing but cold sheet like it did him, which is why he spent most of his time the past six months on the couch. 

“Nothing… It’s not important.” Molly waved the idea away with a hand, trying not to cry more. 

“Molly- Please.” Greg reached for her other hand across the table, and regretted they were in a public place. “You hid from me before and then you ran all the way here. Talk to me.” He hoped he sounded encouraging.

“When I wake up at night, I’m usually reaching for you and you’re not there.” She said in a rush, a blush coming to her cheeks.

Greg smiled in relief at the admission, this he could fix. “I’m here now.” 

“Not because you want to be, but because you feel you have to be.” Molly corrected annoyed at his assertion to the contrary. 

“Molly, have you ever known me to do something I don’t want to do?” Greg lifted a skeptical brow. 

They were interrupted by the waiter. “Are you two ready to order?” 

Once the waiter left, Molly continued their conversation. “You talk to your ex-wife.” That she knew he never wanted to do. He had answered her phone call once in front of Molly and it lasted for over an hour. It hadn’t been pretty and she had to coax him gently into loving her, to remind him she was there for him. She remembered quite fondly that in his anger over speaking to the ex-wife, he had been quite rough and it had been glorious as she let him take his anger out on her body quite thoroughly. Greg had been so upset and remorseful later, but it still gave Molly shivers of pleasure just thinking about it. The bruises had lasted for days, it had been wonderful.

“Yes, I talk to her so that I can schedule seeing my kids, and I want to see my kids.” He was a father first and foremost, he’d tolerate a lot worse just to get the chance to spend time with them. He was still Dad to his son and daughter, whether his ex-wife wanted him to be or not. 

The mention of his divorce, and the lack of time he got with Matt and Emma closed her off to him again. Damn. “You’ll be able to come over anytime you want, you know. I won’t keep you from seeing Stuart.” 

“Stuart?” Greg’s expression changed, realizing what Molly was telling him. He hadn’t even thought she had a name picked out yet.

“The baby. It’s my father’s name.” Molly smiled reaching down to pet at her bump fondly. When she looked back up, she immediately avoided the warm gaze Lestrade was giving her. 

Greg squeezed her hand until she met his gaze again. “I like Stuart.” He affirmed.

“Good. I‘m glad.” Molly smiled in relief. “You don’t have to give me any money, or anything like that, don’t even have to baby-sit him, I plan on hiring help and you can see him whenever you like when I get back to London.” She would never discourage Greg from seeing his son. 

“I obviously couldn’t because you kept yourself here without telling me and went to all the ultrasounds yourself.” Molly winced at his anger he was failing to keep completely at bay. Yes, she would admit that to be her fault, but she ran so that he didn’t have to see her. For a good reason, why couldn‘t he see that? “You lied to me Molly. About the most important thing, that I’m going to be a father again.” He smiled at that, with a far away look but it quickly faded. “You never trusted me at all, never trusted the love that I have for you at all. But I’m still here, I’m willing to be with you even though you lied to me.” Lestrade reached out for her, but Molly moved her hands to her lap. He had mountains of trust issues but he was still here hanging onto the love he knew they both felt. None of this was fair to him at all, that’s what Molly was trying to get him to see. To get him to realize he was better off without. 

“If you’re angry, I still don’t understand why you’re here.” She dislodged their hands to take a sip of water. Trying to fight the feelings that came up the more time she spent with him.

“I’m here to get you to see I’m not leaving you. Even though I don’t understand why you‘re here either.” Greg refused to give up, not yet.

“I had to sort through some things. I had some thoughts and feelings to think about and you weren‘t supposed to know. No one was.” Molly rolled her eyes and they shared a look thinking about Mycroft and Sherlock and how no one could hide anything from either man. After a moment, she watched Greg’s face change to the hurt set expression she had seen when they first saw each other after six months, at the clinic. The love was still there but behind the hurt, this was much easier to take.

“And? What did you find out since you’ve been out here?” Wondering if she thought about the both of them together at all and all the happiness it could mean. Or if she just thought of what he had said blindly in a weak moment without thinking. 

“I already told you.” Molly wondered how many times she would have to repeat herself until he admitted that she was right about the whole thing. 

“So you don’t want anything to do with me at all?” The hurt in Lestrade’s voice gave her pause. She would never want to hurt him, she just wanted him to move on and be happy. He couldn’t be happy if she strapped him down into this family with another kid. 

“I didn’t say that Greg, if I thought this could end with you and I together and happy, I wouldn’t have came here.” Did he actually think she was happy here? She wasn’t happy that was clear, but she was doing this for the right reasons. For him. For Stuart.

“Why do you think it can’t?” He hoped there was a better reason somewhere in her thoughts other than him moving on from her. 

“I already told you why.” Molly laughed exasperated. They seemed to keep going around in circles.

“And I disagreed with that. Give me another reason.” Lestrade suggested, maybe if he knew her thinking behind this whole bollocks idea, he could break them down until she admitted that what she wanted and what he wanted could potentially be the same thing. 

“But I’d be right.” Molly shook her head, looking away sadly at nothing, convinced of her own ideas. 

She looked back at Lestrade when he wiped his hand over his face, like he always did during a frustrating case. She was being so stubborn, instead of listening to what he was trying to tell her. “If that’s the only reason, Molly you have to see how flimsy it is, you can’t know the future between us.” His speech was partially muffled by his hand.

“Neither can you,” she wanted to think they could be happy but the uncertainty scared her, and he was already divorced once. She tried not to hold that against him but she had to think about the baby. She didn‘t want him growing up with a broken family. “This baby changes everything. We’re tied together. Forever. And its my fault.” Greg watched her blink back tears. 

“I think I had a little bit to do with this, Molly.” Greg smirked, cheeky. Glad to see that Molly at least gave a laugh at that. “So why fight it? Why not admit that you want to be with me? Give me another reason.” 

“I do.” More than anything, she just wished it was possible. “But I don’t think you want a family. You said you didn’t. If that’s true, but I believed you right now and gave in, we would marry and one day you would realize that you trapped yourself into a marriage and a family you didn’t want again.” She loved him enough not to let him make the same mistake twice. 

“I wanted my family before, and I love my kids. Its my ex-wife that cheated.” He didn’t want a divorce but he understood what Molly was trying to do now. It’s why he filed for divorce in the first place. He had loved his ex-wife enough to want her to be happy with someone else, to find someone she could be happy with. He was embittered by that not being him. But that wasn’t the case here, he was head over heels in love with Molly, he admitted now that he hadn’t felt nearly enough love with his ex-wife. Not like this. 

“And that’s why, why you didn’t want a family again, why you don’t want one with me now.” She understood, she was letting him go, not tying him down to another commitment he didn’t want to have again. Why couldn’t he see that? 

“I said I didn’t want to settle down again, I admit it.” Throwing his hands up in defeat. He certainly didn’t want this to blow up in his face every time they had a fight. “I don’t remember it, but I’ll admit that I would probably say that. To any woman that asks. Any woman except you. I love you, Molly.” He voice was nothing more than a growl, filled with emotion. It made tears come to Molly’s eyes but she still shook her head. Refusing to believe him. Greg backed off for now when he saw a tray of food and their waiter coming towards them. 

The dinner was tense and silent, and they ate. Molly wouldn’t allow herself to respond to Greg’s declaration. She wouldn’t say the words out loud. It was too much for her to commit to right now. She loved him so much it hurt but to say it back… She would be giving in. And right now she couldn’t do that. She was trying to be strong, for their son. There was too much at stake. As a mother, committing herself to a man also put her child into the care of whoever she said those words to, and she did trust Greg most of all with her child, but she just couldn’t commit herself. But Greg was patient, he would bide his time. He really hadn’t needed to wait for Molly before, they had just fallen together as naturally as waves in the sea. Maybe this was how he would prove himself properly by waiting for her now. They ate almost the entire meal in silence, except for the polite conversation of dining out, comments about the food, the service, if Molly wanted anything more, if they wanted to have dessert. The air between them was heavy with things left unsaid, but Greg decided that he would leave it for now. There was no sense in starting an argument with Molly while she was like this. He knew from experience. Once the meal was over, he couldn’t get Molly to order a dessert no matter how hard he tried, not even something chocolate - a testament to how low her spirits had become - he paid, and guided her out of the restaurant towards the pier. Molly allowed it, needing the sea air after the warm air of the restaurant. 

He helped her sit down on the bench and knelt before her. 

“What are you doing?” Molly questioned, her posture like a deer ready to bolt. 

“Nothing you’re thinking, I know if I really asked what I wanted to right now you’d just say no.” Lestrade quipped. A man could only handle so much repeated rejection in one day.

“So then what are you doing?” Molly questioned, a blush flowering on her cheeks as he caressed her stomach and upward until he cradled her head in his hand. 

“This.” He closed the gap between their faces, which wasn’t much and enveloped her lips in a kiss. Greg let himself feel what he had been missing for the past six months. He had given up on talking about their relationship for now, but that didn’t mean he’d stop trying to do anything about it. Maybe his lips could speak where his words could not. It had been too long, he had forgotten how Molly‘s lips tasted, how soft they were but he didn‘t forget how much he loved kissing them. Oh no, all these months he ached to do just this, thinking of anything more… involved… would have drove him mad. He felt all the elation he thought impossible to feel when he realized she was kissing him back, desperately, clinging to the lapels of his jacket in a vice like grip. So it was as he thought, she was trying to convince herself of something and her heart wasn‘t in it. Only his silly Molls could do that, thinking it better for others, forgetting about letting herself have good things in this world. He tried to deepen the kiss with a sweet nibble of her bottom lip, but this was like an electric shock. Molly pulled away with a gasp, and a sob, not hearing his moan of anguish in their separation.

Molly’s sobs brought him back to reality. “Please, Greg, I can’t do this.” She cried. 

It was obvious she wanted him equally, so why was she denying herself? “Why not?” Greg groaned with an expression on his face of a kicked puppy. 

“It hurts too much. I-I can’t.” Molly pushed herself off the bench and waddled back towards the restaurant. Lestrade was quite impressed with how fast a pregnant Molly was able to go once she was on the move. He caught up with her and stopped her.

“Why can’t you be with me, Molls? I don’t understand any of this.” He waved into the air around him to the little village of Hastings around them. “I thought we were in love. I thought you loved me.” He reached out to caress her cheek with his thumb, looking into Molly’s eyes. His tender gaze finally allowed the tears she had been fighting to bubble over. Blast and damn all these wretched hormones.

“I do that’s why this hurts so much! I can’t be with you now if you’re only going to leave me later.” The pain in her face was like a slap in the face, and Greg removed his hands from her as if burnt. So that was what she thought of him, that he could do that to a woman he loved. “Not now that we’re going to have Stuart.” She finished wiping at her tears.

“But I’m not going to leave you and Stuart, Molly.” Greg pleaded. 

“You don’t know that.” Molly shook her head.

“And you don’t know that I will either.” He hated when she tried to think of the future in absolutes. 

Molly was having trouble catching her breath around her sobbing and felt ill. “P-Please I can’t go on like this, tonight.” Lestrade immediately saw she wasn’t feeling well and began to soothe her. He brought her head into his chest and ran his other hand in soothing circles along her back.

“Shh… Okay, I promise, no more kissing. Just please take a breath for me, Molly.” Molly couldn’t say if it was the familiar smells of his coat, his cologne, mixed with cigarette smoke, and mint, or if it was the way his voice rumbled through her, but with a breath Molly was able to instantly calm herself in his arms. She knew she couldn’t live without him, that’s why she felt it was good to cut herself off now, that way it wouldn’t hurt like this later when her life would completely rely on him. Now? Now she had her independence. Lestrade didn’t know how he was supposed to make it while in her presence when everything he was screamed for him to prove how much he loved her physically, but he would try because she asked it of him. 

They slowly made their way back to the front of the restaurant where Lestrade left his car. They drove back in silence, though Molly didn’t pull away when his hand held hers. She was too emotional from before to fight it now. Lestrade considered that a good step in the right direction. He pulled up in front of her place and helped her out. He guided her by the hand and another hand on her back until she was just inside the door. He squeezed her hand once before letting go and left her there without a word. Making his way back to the cold hotel room he was occupying. 

Once he was gone, Molly went to bed and laid awake for hours wondering if maybe she was wrong, and when she finally nodded off, her mind plagued her with dreams of Lestrade making love to her in a familiar yet entirely new bedroom she had never seen before, of him running around with a young boy, while she cooked in a kitchen, waves familiar to her now crashed over churning her dreams from one vision to the next.

\----…----…----…----

Back at the hotel, Lestrade grumbled, not in the mood for any niceties with anyone in the hotel. Once he came into his room he plugged in his phone to charge. Now that he had seen how far along Molly was, he would stay until she had Stuart and hopefully be able to be the one to take her and Stuart back to London. He smiled as he thought of the name. He unlocked his phone and frowned when he saw how many messaged were on his phone. All from Sherlock. He’d read and delete them later. Deductions about how the dinner with Molly had progressed. Another message pinged on his phone. 

_Any luck? -SH_

Lestrade grumbled and responded with the truth. 

_Not really. Dunno what I did. Where I went wrong. Dunno if I can fix it. -GL_

Greg rubbed at his face in frustration.

_You’re not giving up. -SH_

_Of course I’m not. - GL_

_That wasn’t a question. -SH_

He hated when Sherlock did that. Deduced but didn’t make it obvious that’s what he was doing, and just tried to make it part of the conversation. It made it hard for Lestrade to keep up sometimes.

_Alright. So what do I do then? She’s convinced I’ll leave her and the baby since I divorced my ex. -GL_

_Obvious. But not unmanageable. -SH_

_Yeah but how do I fix it? -GL_

_You understand that this is not really my area. -SH_

It bothered Greg that Sherlock seemed uncomfortably nervous about this whole situation. 

_Yeah. What does John say? -GL_

_Something about keep trying. Mary says she’s being stubborn. She can’t fight the truth forever. -SH_

Oh, great. That was some real help from his pseudo-friends. Greg tried to resist the urge to throw his phone as he read the words keep trying again.

_How did you know I was with John? -SH_

Greg laughed at that small victory, he really enjoyed being able to surprise Sherlock with evidence that he wasn’t entirely hopeless as the consulting detective seemed to believe. 

_You haven’t left Imogen’s side for anything more than a 7 since Mary had her. Obvious. - GL_

He may not have known how to deduce like Sherlock, but he knew people well enough that he could manage on his own when necessary. And Sherlock, for all of his supposed sociopath claims was still just as human, even more so, as the rest of humanity. 

_I forget how you really are the best at Scotland Yard sometimes. -SH_

_Ta, I think. -GL_

Greg yawned, tired from the emotional effort he spent today. 

_Go to sleep, Lestrade. Molly usually gets up around 7. Goodnight. -SH_

_I don’t even want to ask how Mycroft knows that. Goodnight, Sherlock. Love to the Watsons. -GL_

Greg went through the motions of preparing for bed. Brushed his teeth, put his phone back on the charger, locked the door to his room, put out the ‘do not disturb’ sign. He finally came to the bed and pulled back the covers, not liking that he was in a strange bed without Molly. But he knew he needed a good night’s sleep for the morning when this would start all over again. Greg laid back though he yawned, and he was tired, sleep didn’t find him. He was kept awake thinking about what could possibly have happened to convince Molly that he didn’t want her. 

Well they hadn’t had a chance to really discuss the stupid thing he obviously said while he was barely conscious when it happened in the first place. It was something he would have talked about. It had clearly been bothering her, looking back at the month before she left. He had noticed something was amiss but hadn’t known what at the time. Molly never hid her emotions very well. But he had thought he could wait for her to tell him. 

That was until she became pregnant. And instead of telling him, she ran. Now there was damage done he couldn’t seem to fix. He turned over pulling the covers over him tighter, trying to relax. He brought images of Molly to the forefront of his mind, instead of their problems and how unfixable they were. Once he thought of Molly instead of everything around Molly. Sleep came easily. The tension eased out of him until reality faded away, instead he chased Molly and a little boy around a field and along hedgerows. His brow only knit in tension while he slept when he unconsciously reached for Molly in his sleep but not finding her there.

\----…----…----…----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my! *blushes* I think I just adore Greg Lestrade. So I love him doing gallant things. But I could see him doing these things anyway.  
> I always picture him with kids and loving being a father. He wants it so bad with Molly too!!!
> 
> Let me know what you think.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	8. Seven Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg stays by Molly's side and she's finally the happy mother she should be, waiting for her child to arrive. Is it enough to convince Molly of the truth? Is this enough for Lestrade to prove his love for her?
> 
> Mary and John are up to things while Molly isn't in London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Wednesday and here's a new chapter just like I promised! I just apologize that it's not as long as the last chapter.
> 
> But you'll just have to wait to see what comes next!
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _32 weeks_ ]

 

\----…----…----…----

 

For the next month, Lestrade was everything for Molly that you would think an attentive man would be to his expectant lover. And under his attentiveness she finally blossomed. Gladys didn’t mind being ignored in favor of Molly’s happiness, and she seemed to be happier every day. Gladys hoped she could see that she was greatly improving simply because of his presence.

Every day Lestrade and Molly fell into the same pattern. Lestrade would bring her breakfast at the clinic, or would bring it to her so that she could eat it while he drove her there, and take her out to lunch and then dinner. Greg kept the conversations they had casual and light, just delighting in watching Molly smile and laugh, marveling at his ability to still do so. It felt like it did before Molly left. Molly wondered what he was doing for work, if he was here in Hastings with her, do nothing except making sure she ate, then there were murders going unsolved at the Yard. When Molly tried to ask he kissed her on the head and told her that right next to her was where he needed to be. She didn’t understand it really. Lestrade was all about his work just as she was. He would tempt her with more food, instead of allowing her negative thoughts to fester and the matter would be dropped as soon as she brought it up.

That was how Lestrade decided he would start. He wouldn’t let her dwell on what they had already discussed. They could come back to that once the baby was born. He hoped in this small space of time, his obvious devotion and the care he took in providing for her would be enough. He would just let her see the evidence of how he really felt. Greg hoped she could see that he would forsake everything if it meant she would be happy, and he would be by her side.

Molly wasn’t completely unwise to what Lestrade was doing. She didn’t understand why he just didn’t admit that she was as burdensome as she felt. But Molly just knew it was better for the baby if she was happy, and eating, and she would be both of those things if Greg was with her. She tolerated the lingering pain of his presence, so that she could selfishly absorb the pleasure of what little time she had left with him. Once Stuart was born, she would cut Greg loose, he would be grateful to make his escape, and that would be the end of this. She would move back to London. He would come take Stuart whenever he liked, which would probably be about as often as he had time with his other kids, and she could concentrate on work, being a mother and could pretend that being a single parent alone wasn’t half so painful as it had been and would continue to be. For now, in this little bubble Greg created around them where they didn’t discuss these painful things, it was easy to pretend they had all the time in the world.

Stacey and BJ noticed the improvements with delight. The baby’s growth made up for all of Molly’s lack of eating in the past month, now that Greg was there. It seemed both Molly and baby improved by leaps and bounds just by his influence alone. It was a marvel, from where Molly had been before. Stacey wouldn’t question it but she loved that Molly was finally looking the way she should be. Molly waddled around the center like many of the other expectant mothers and was both annoyed and grateful that Stacey had started cutting back on the time she spent at the center. Less time there meant more time with Greg. But then she wouldn’t be as tired from working hours at the center, and wouldn’t come back from the center with a sore back, swollen ankles, and neck pain.

One of the nights she actually worked at the center found her back at the cottage with Gladys, her feet propped up on the coffee table, with a cup of weak tea. It had been a hard day and she really wasn’t in the mood for going anywhere to eat, or to move anywhere else really. She felt like a bloody sea cow and could barely reach over her stomach to get the tea cup when Gladys had put in front of her. Not only was she tired and exhausted but she was ravenous.

Greg came to the door promptly at seven-thirty, as was his usual routine, whistling his way into the sitting room. Only this time instead of helping her up so that they could leave for one of the three restaurants and two pubs to be found in Hastings, he came baring take away. Molly’s mouth dropped open as she watched him accept a fond kiss on the cheek from Gladys, like he would Mrs. Hudson, and produced dinner for the three of them.

Gladys made her excuses to the couple, despite their effusive protests, and made up a tray to eat in her room. She knew well enough to give the couple their privacy, as she made her way up the stairs. Gladys left the couple to their own devices and was glad for the time to finish the novel she had been reading. That Greg was a man her Stanley would have been proud to know, and she was glad that Molly had someone so devoted to her. She just wished Molly would see that fact sooner rather than later before the man changed his mind.

Greg wordlessly brought trays filled with their takeaways and put on the telly flipping around until he found a repeat of Doctor Who. He watched it constantly with his kids when they came over and knew it was a favorite with his Molls. She didn’t even raise an eyebrow, too engrossed in the food and the episode to notice Greg take her achy feet into his lap once he finished eating. He used the distraction to begin rubbing the tension away that he found beneath his fingertips.

Greg’s touch didn’t go unnoticed for long and soon Molly was humming around her fork as she continued to eat, relaxing even further under his ministrations. The blissful feeling of him rubbing out the knots of tension overrode her warning signals to push him away. Once Greg was done with that he calmly let her pull her feet back towards herself and didn’t speak until after she was done eating, asking if she wanted dessert. He then rose from his seat, went into the kitchen, and returned with chocolate ice cream for the both of them, with a healthier portion for Molly than himself. Molly took the bowl with a smile, licking her lips, her eyes growing big with pleasure at seeing the chocolate treat. She didn’t even notice Greg’s fond smile or that he was moving her over so that he could sit behind her, she just laid against him like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. And it was, it had been. When she wasn’t thinking or conscious of her actions, trusting in Greg and his ministrations over her person was the easiest thing to do.

Once the ice cream was finished, he wordlessly took their bowls to the sink and then came back once against resuming his position behind her but this time he began to rub the tension that was in her back and muscled at the tight knots that were making her back sore. As usual his hands were a wonder, his wide, lovely, blunt fingers, as more than once he had performed the same service for her after long shifts at the morgue. She melted into his touch and once Greg had felt the tension finally release from her sore muscles he encouraged her to lay back against his chest. A chuckle rumbled through his chest as she wiggled until she found the sweet spot, that familiar place while laying against Greg’s front that made her feel the warmest, safest, and gave a yawn.

One episode gave way to another and soon the adventures and the flying blue box started to warp together. Greg used the distraction of the show to allow himself the indulgence of not only cuddling his Molls close in his embrace, a thing he painfully missed, but also to let his hands caress her stomach; to feel the baby moving and how wonderful it was that he was going to be a father again.

It wasn’t long before the effort of working all day while pregnant overcame her and Molly fell asleep.

Soon Doctor Who faded to Top Gear, Lestrade watched the show muted and with disinterest, completely engrossed in the way Molly felt against him. His heart ached feeling every one of her exhalations against his cheek. Greg combed his fingers in her hair, smiling when Molly curled into his touch. The sandy feeling in his eyes told Greg that he had better take Molly to bed and leave himself, before he became too tired to drive. The sleepy feeling prevailed in the room and was winning him over as well. He regrettably thought that if they had been in her flat, or his own, they would have just fallen asleep and it would have been the most natural thing in the world.

Careful not to disturb her sleep, Greg lifted a now perfectly plumped Molly up to her bedroom. He was happy, even though his back wouldn’t thank him for it later. Molly was finally the weight she should be, meaning he was doing the job he should be doing. The trek up the stairs to her room was slow, every other step Greg checked to make sure that Molly was undisturbed, finally reaching the second floor hallway. Molly’s door was open and another was closed where light from another TV could be seen was most likely Gladys’s. He slowly made the progression to her room and laid Molly onto the bed. He took a look around the room trying to find something of hers, a nightgown, something to dress her in. The sparseness of the room bothered Lestrade, there was nothing of Molly here, nothing of them. Except for the phone on the nightstand that for some reason chose that moment to flash on, the screen was bright in the darkness of the room, so he reached out to take it away with all intentions of locking it again so that it went dark. Until he noticed their picture on the home screen. In surprise, he sat down on the bed, blinking against the harsh blue light of the phone. It was surprising not only since it was the only personal belonging of Molly’s in the room, but also because it was the same picture that was on the home screen of his phone as well. A mutual favorite, and the fact that they both coveted the picture spoke volumes. Greg didn’t notice Molly was slowly stirring behind him. The lack of warmth his body had provided brought her out of the rest she had been enjoying. Greg returned the phone to the nightstand, at a loss for what the picture on her phone meant, and why she had turned it back on long after everyone had tried to contact her to find out where she had been. Lestrade couldn’t find any answers in his exhausted thoughts and decided for now that there was no use in dwelling on the significance of it all. Greg sighed, looking to see if Molly was still asleep. Thinking she was, he tucked her in and stood, intent on leaving, and going back to his hotel room to sleep.

When Greg stood to leave, he was shocked to feel Molly’s warm, soft fingers enclose around his wrist. “Don’t go.” Molly’s soft voice pleaded into the dark, only broken up by the blue milky light of the moonlit night filtering in from the window over Molly’s bed.

“Molls, I don’t know. You didn’t-”

“I know, but… please?” He wanted to remind Molly of what she claimed she didn’t want from him right now. But Molly was tired and couldn’t sleep now without him near. To illustrate her point further she sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, to better meet her pleading eyes with his. Greg’s face covered with a pain she knew was her fault. He was in love with her, and couldn’t have her the way he wanted. He let out a resigned sigh. Tension from the past several weeks leaving him. He hoped that this would mean they were heading with a big step into the right direction. Finally decided, he looked into her eyes with a tired smile.

“Alright.” He conceded, coming around to the other side of the bed and began to take off his clothes until he was in his undershirt and pants. It wouldn’t do for his clothes to get wrinkled, and he could finally get a proper sleep. Instead of watching, no matter how much he wanted to, Greg politely kept his eyes averted while Molly went through the process of shedding her clothes and put on a pair of pajama pants and a loose t-shirt she had begun to favor at night during her pregnancy. Only when she began to get into the bed, did Greg do the same.

“Goodnight Greg.” Molly smiled coming to rest on her side, spooned against Greg.

“Goodnight, Molls.” Greg smiled, laying an indulgent kiss in her hair. It was all he was painfully allowed, anything more and he could spook her, but for now it would have to be enough. The couple fell asleep in each other’s arms, not a breath of air between them but their thoughts were an ocean away.

 

\----…----…----…----

 

Mary and John sat in a freshly painted blue baby room, congratulating themselves on a job well done. Jessa, recently moved out into her own flat nearby, was putting the finishing touches on the white clouds that dotted the walls.

“Well this is starting to look like a baby’s room.” Mary smiled looking at the walls. She had met Jessa before, and was very glad the girl was proving to be such a loyal friend to Molly. Not just someone mooching off of Molly while she was away, and there were plenty of those friends in Molly’s address book. No this girl was a good one. Now if only she could get her three-continents husband to stop staring at the girl’s arse while she bent over to get more white paint on her brush.

“Yeah… nice.” John echoed Mary’s sentiment clearly not paying attention to what Mary was saying at all.

“John, dear. Why don’t you go get the box for the crib and you can start putting it together while Jessa and I clean up.” Mary gave him a knowing smile, coming to stand between Jessa’s arse and John’s view of it. His face became perturbed, wondering what had disrupted his lovely view and then promptly looked away when he noticed it was his wife.

“Alright Mrs. Watson.” John smiled cheekily to Mary getting up to retrieve said box and the tools he brought to put it together.

“I can’t believe this is actually coming together, Mary.” Jessa smiled looking around the room, completely unwitting that she had been ogled by her friend’s husband. She began picking up the drop cloth and plastic from the floor. Mary reached down to help as well.

“I know it really does look lovely, you did a great job on those clouds!” Mary complimented the girls painting skills, she really did know her way around a brush.

“Thanks! I was an art major in college, until I realized the art I was making wasn’t going to make me any money, then I went into business, for the artists. We both win that way.” Jessa smiled with a shrug.

“So is that why you moved to London?” Mary questioned.

“Yes, so that I could be near the galleries. My new job needed me to be in easy distance.” Jessa explained while looking over her work, putting the drop clothes into the garbage. Mary helped Jessa lay down the carpet for the nursery and rolled it out, a typical pattern of a city with roads that Stuart could play with as he got older.

“I hope we’re not keeping you from anything?” Mary questioned, knowing that Jessa was very successful, and that it was still early for a Friday.

“Oh no! I’d much rather be here for Molly. She could use it! Even if she doesn’t know we did this for her yet.” Jessa smiled sadly. She just wished that Molly would come home and sort this all out.

“Yes I hope she doesn’t hate us for doing this.” Mary winced, knowing sometimes Molly hated surprises like that, and when people did this for her.

“She will but she’ll be grateful when she realizes we saved her the trouble of having to do it herself.” John smiled coming to the room with the box for the crib. He laid down the box and began taking out the pieces. When Mary questioned if he had a screwdriver, he produced one from his pocket with a smile. They put together the crib, with many frustrated curses coming from John.

Once the crib was up and in place, John moved onto the matching dresser and changing table. It wasn’t long before Sherlock showed up with Imogen in tow. Mary and Jessa played with her in the crib after she was fed, then continued to decorate around her once Mary got her to sleep. Sherlock helped John finish building the rocking chair, and the two men moved in the new large squishy chair and ottoman. They set up lamps, hung pictures and set up all the supplies, then they all looked around at the finished product.

Sherlock and John had to excuse themselves for a case. Donovan was desperate and needed the freak’s assistance. Though it was John that encouraged him to go even though Sherlock wanted to refuse at Donovan’s use of his hated nickname. Jessa and Mary shared a look and shooed them off so that they could wrap up the finishing touches, including wrapping the door in banners and a big bow. Jessa helped Mary with Imogen, then they locked up the flat. Mary agreed to have John check up on Toby and Jessa handed over her spare keys.

Once Molly returned they both agreed she would be force fed a baby shower whether she wanted it or not. With a hug they departed, agreeing to their plan and hoping that once Molly came back everything would return to normal.

 

\----…----…----…----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	9. Belabored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nature makes a new mother and a consulting detective waits impatiently to hear that once again his world has shifted. 
> 
> A bouncing baby boy greats the world, and with him the world around Lestrade and Molly has changed forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a nice way for you all to finish your Monday's, my apologies for not posting yesterday, but I got back from a long trip and was just wiped out. 
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _35 Weeks_ ]

 

\----…----…----…----

 

Molly found herself in the garden on one of the first warm days of spring that would give way to the oppressive heat of summer. Gladys had tried to warn Molly off of the gardening, but Molly needed the activity. She for some reason had boundless amounts of energy, when the past few weeks she seemed to scraping the bottom of the well of energy that she had trying to work around all of the usual pregnancy aches and pains. But not today, today she felt refreshed and needed to keep busy to stave off the boredom she would feel just sitting on the couch in front of the telly.

Gladys had watched her suspiciously but declared that since Molly was tending to the garden that she would go feed the sheep, they would need sheering soon. The elder woman tried to keep a weather eye on the younger pregnant woman but soon found herself distracted by the bleating sheep around her.

Molly put the hat she had been wearing aside and wiped at her brow. It had been hotter out than she had anticipated and went to take off the jumper she was wearing. With a sigh, she stood up to put the jumper on the bench near the house, but grimaced when she felt a sudden sharp pain in her back. Huh, maybe she had been kneeling for too long. Molly wondered if a walk around the pier would ease the pain, and looked to Gladys. She was too far off to tell her, but Molly had her phones on her, just in case.

Molly reached the pier but the pain that had gone away came back. She pulled the jumper she neglected to take off tighter around herself, no longer feeling warm against the breeze blowing off the water. Molly was trying to make a concerted effort not to worry, since it was at least three weeks before she would deliver. She continued to walk along the pier, waddling very slowly. The wind blew and it was then that she noticed a wet feeling between her legs underneath the long skirt she was wearing.

“Oh no. Please. Not yet.” Molly pleaded, her pleas going unheeded. Her water had broken.

“Bugger.” Molly whimpered, as a sudden contraction gripped her, not like the pain she had felt before. This was much, much worse.

Reaching for her phone, Molly went to dial Stacey or BJ, and hesitated. She didn’t want them in that moment, with a moan, Molly sank down onto a bench, trying to breathe through the pain. She wanted Greg.

An old man walked by seeing she was in pain. He was going to press on but his dog refused to obey trying to head in her direction. When Molly looked up to him, her pleading stare pulled at his Samaritan instincts. “Can I help you lass?” The man questioned. The old wolf hound that was on his leash kept tugging towards her. She was in distress and the dog could sense it, whining to his master.

“I’m- ah!” Molly gripped her stomach, taking deep breaths, the pains were getting stronger but not getting closer together. “I’m fine, just, uh, going to have a baby.” Molly laughed digging out her real phone. She tried ringing Greg but the phone was still disconnected. Small whimpering cries poured out of her throat without her even really acknowledging them, she just wanted Greg to be there. The old man still hadn’t left, and came to her side when she dropped the phone in agony as another contraction squeezed her abdomen in a vice grip.

“Are you sure I can’t help you, Miss? I’d hate to leave ya here in yer delicate condition.” The old man waffled at whether or not to leave her. It wouldn’t do to just let the young lass sit here to have a baby alone on the bench here by the pier.

“Just, uh…” Molly breathed finding her balance before the next contraction again. “Could you hand me the phone I dropped?” The man wasted little time and returned the phone to her hand. She brought up Lestrade’s number, her nerves shook her fingers and almost made doing that an impossible task. Instead she showed the man Greg's contact page and his number. “Could you dial this number into this phone and hand it to me?” The pain from the contractions left her without the ability to do anything else except brace herself for the next contraction to come. The man nodded to the younger woman fondly doing as she bade. Glad he hadn’t listened to her in the first place and went on his way. The old man was glad that he could be of service to someone so beautiful, and it would make a tidy little story to tell his mates down at the pub. He gave the phone back and listened as the phone rang.

 

\----…----…----…----

 

Greg was in a café waiting for it to be lunch so that he could see Molly again. He was getting to be a regular there. They knew his favorite coffee and everything. The girl that worked behind the counter brought him his coffee without a word, she only wished that he wasn’t very much taken. She had a thing for cops with premature silver hair, this week, and they were such a rare sighting in Hastings, too.

His phone rang and broke into his reverie, of which he had been imagining Molly, Stuart, and him walking around the London Zoo. It was a number he didn’t recognize, but he was just praying it wasn’t a consult that would force him to return to London. He couldn’t be away from Molly now.

“DI Lestrade.” Greg drawled into his phone in a bored voice.

“ _Greg?_ ” He knew that voice instantly. Molly and she was in pain.

“Molls?” Greg echoed Molly’s concerned voice into the phone with his own to match. His entire body was immediately on edge. He was out into the street before Molly could tell him what was wrong. He knew what the pain in her voice meant. But it was too soon, wasn’t it?

“ _Greg, please, hurry! I’m going into labor. I’m not- AH!!!- I can’t- Please!_ ” Greg listened as his heart twisted, hearing Molly sob into the phone. “I need you.” Molly whispered into the phone in a plea, practically begged into the phone. It pained Greg terribly that he didn’t know where she was, but a very selfish part of him was elated inside to hear her say those words. She needed him. It warmed him down to his toes, better than a cup of tea after a day in the English rain.

“Alright. Molly I need you tell where you are, I will find you and get you to the clinic.” Greg said calmly into the phone. He always was good in a crisis.

“ _I’m -ah! I’m at the pier, by the cottage. Gladys was feeding the sheep and I thought I needed to take a walk Please! Hurry. Aaaahhhhh!!!_ ” Molly cried. Another contraction ripped through her body.

“Molly. Molly. Just breathe for me. I need you to breathe. Hold on! I’m coming to get you, alright? Just hold on! I’ll be there in two minutes.” Greg was in his car and had the phone on speaker phone in record time. “Talk to me, Molly!” Lestrade encouraged as he drove in the direction of the pier, doing his best to dodge people walking in the streets and other cars. He wished he could use his police light, but that would be an abuse of power.

“ _It’s too soon! Greg. I-I- I luh- Ahhhhhh! Uh-_ ” Molly was crying into the phone. It only made Greg’s heart race faster. It sounded like she was going to say what he had wanted to hear this past month and a half. But those damn contractions got in the way.

“I know, Molly. But he’s going to be healthy and happy. He’s going to be beautiful. I’m almost there, Molly! I love you so much.” Greg grumbled, getting out of the car once he reached the pier. He looked up and down it, spotting Molly being kept company by a scruffy old man and his dog. “I’m here I see you, hold on.” Molly looked up in his direction on instinct. Smiling, and crying in relief, upon seeing him there.

Molly reached out and breathed in relief once she was in Lestrade’s arms. She looked to the man that was standing nearby. The man hoped the nervous looking young man the young woman was embracing was responsible for her. He took her hand when she reached out and accepted the handshake.

“Thank you so much!” The man waved off her thanks just glad that he hadn’t left her out here on the pier alone. He eyed the silver haired young man wearily.

“No need to thank me, I’m just glad to have helped you. Are you alright?” The man asked, casting a suspicious gaze from Lestrade to Molly. He didn’t notice a ring on matching fingers.

“Yes she’s fine now. I’m the father, and I’m in Scotland Yard, now if you don’t mind I need to get Molly to the clinic.” Lestrade grumbled, lifting Molly easily into his arms thanks to all the adrenaline pumping through him. The DI didn’t wait for the man to respond, just loaded Molly into his car once he walked the short length back to it, and drove off. The old man shook his head as he pulled his dog in the direction to continue down the pier towards the pub, he didn’t know what young people were about nowadays, doing everything backwards instead of just admitting their love for one another.

“I need my bag! I don’t have anything for the baby. Nothing is prepared for him back at my flat. Everything is such a mess.” Molly whined breathing through another contraction. She wasn’t ready to be a mother, it was too soon. She felt completely unprepared.

“I’ll get your bag on the way there. One thing at a time, Molls. Just tell me, how far apart are the contractions?” Greg asked calmly making his way to the cottage, though in truth he was speeding most of the way there.

“Ugh! They’re close but they’ve been at five minutes apart for a while. Won’t know more until we get to the -AH! Aaaaah! C-Clinic!“ Greg automatically reached out and allowed her to squeeze his hand through the contraction. Molly took his hand with relief, glad that he reached out first.

“Okay! It’s alright we’re at the cottage, now I need you to stay here and I’ll be right back.” Greg brushed her hair back and met Molly’s eyes hoping that he would show her that he wasn’t leaving her. At least not for longer than it took to get her bag. He wasn’t expecting the kiss she gave him, but smiled in response, kissing her back. He kissed her forehead and the baby bump before heading into the cottage to get her bag, calling for Gladys. He was in and out of the cottage with her bag, a worried Gladys stopping just inside the doorway, already on the phone with Stacey to let them know that she was on the way and that it was time. The elder woman had been worried about Molly since she turned around and saw that Molly had mysteriously left without telling her. Everything in her since the time she noticed Molly was gone told her that something was wrong. She had, unfortunately, been very right.

Greg drove down to the clinic in record speed. “We’re here, Molly! It’s going to be okay. I promise.” Greg instructed encouragingly, kissing her hair again before getting out and coming around to lift her into his arms not even noticing the nurses that came rushing outside with BJ and a wheelchair. Lestrade carried Molly, bag and all into the clinic.

 

\----…----…----…----

 

_She went into labor three hours ago. -MH_

The text came in on Sherlock’s phone while he was chasing after a suspect. John was hot on his trail and crashed into him, not realizing he had stopped running. One moment Sherlock was looking at his phone the next moment he was looking at the darkening clouds and stars of the evening London sky.

“What’s the matter, Sherlock? We’re letting that moron get away!” John groaned, feeling pain all over after he took the unexpected fall, wincing against the pulling tension from his shoulder and leg. To be fair, the suspect they were following, most likely the murderer, was a really big moron. Enough for John to use the adjective, not just Sherlock’s interpretation of the word. He had allowed them time enough to talk and Sherlock practically got him to confess to killing the college student he had been flirting with during the past month when she refused to go to bed with him, after three very terrible dates. Once he realized that the man before him was the man in the funny hat, from the front of all the newspapers, had deduced his guilt, he ran. Now Sherlock and John were in hot pursuit of him. Until Mycroft’s untimely announcement that Molly was now in labor.

“Molly. It’s Molly. She’s in labor.” Sherlock announced in a panic, ready to abandon the chase of this man entirely so that they could go to Hastings as soon as possible. He scrambled to his feet and nervously took off towards the main road to try and catch a cab.

“Wait! Sherlock! No!” John halted Sherlock forcibly, with his hands on the detective’s shoulders. “You have to get this guy. Greg is with Molly. She’ll be fine. We have to finish this. Once he‘s in custody, we‘ll go back to Baker Street and wait for word from Greg or Mycroft.” Sherlock shook his head to focus, and nodded to John. Sometimes he needed John to remind him that the great consulting detective wasn’t always needed when his friends were in a crisis, this was one of those times.

They caught the murderer in an abandoned warehouse, giving chase until they reached the roof. Sherlock narrowly missed catching the murder weapon, a kitchen knife, in his spleen. Only tearing the purple shirt he was wearing in the process. John reacted just as quickly, removing the knife from the man’s grip by snapping his wrist, and then proceeded to break his arm, ankle and knee cap for good measure. Sherlock merely watched with a prideful smirk. That would teach the man for trying to attack the world’s only consulting detective when his blogger was there to defend him.

Once the scene was cleared by Donovan and the rest of Scotland Yard, Sherlock and John made their way back to Baker Street. Sherlock sneered at the lack of flourish at the end of the case. Sure it was nice that John had rendered the man immobile but he hadn’t confessed to doing the crime. He would confess to the Yard of it later, since he had screamed bloody murder whenever Sherlock or John stepped anywhere in the man’s direction. That should have been satisfying enough, but Sherlock had wanted the lowlife to confess to the truth to him. Now he’d never hear it.

Once back at Baker Street, John made tea to calm down while Sherlock couldn’t stop pacing. Molly was in Hastings, in labor, and they had no idea or details of how she was doing. He didn’t like it. Mycroft sent them regular updates when he was able and there was only the one text Lestrade sent telling them that she was indeed having the baby. John encouraged Sherlock to sit down and have his tea, sending off a text to Mary to let her know why he wasn’t home yet. Mary responded that she would be right over. She understood better than Sherlock’s own best friend that they needed to work on keeping Sherlock calm so he didn’t lash out like a caged tiger. Sherlock needed the company, and Imogen would provide a nice distraction.

Sherlock paced, sat, waited, paced and only stopped it all once Imogen arrived. Uncle Sherlock was the favorite person immediately upon sight, Imogen reached for Sherlock with her tiny, chubby hands. Sherlock took her into his arms with a coo. He snuggled with her, the scent of her and baby powder he found comforting, and played quiet games with her until she nodded off. He closed his eyes and used the quiet to pace around Molly’s section of his mind palace while John and Mary talked in hushed tones. John was worried that the baby was arriving a bit too soon, but Mary was more worried about the baby coming between Lestrade and Molly and all the progress they had made, which was tenuous at best. When Imogen fussed and whined about not being in her crib at such a late hour, ready to be put to bed, John suggested that maybe they return back to their own flat. He was exhausted after chasing that baddie all day and there wasn’t a place for Imogen to sleep. Or so he explained to Imogen when he took her from Sherlock, even though she fussed more at being removed from her Uncle’s arms than actually being in them. Her Uncle Sherlock was the best person in the whole world and would certainly deduce how to fix her problems.

“Don’t be ridiculous, John.” Sherlock announced haughtily carrying Imogen up the steps to what had been John’s room. Mary and John followed wordlessly behind with matching quizzical brows. The bed was still there, with fresh sheets, as well as the dresser and small desk. Everything had been as it was, but now instead there was a smaller dresser and crib that were perfect for Imogen. Mary smiled coming to sit on the bed. This was the Sherlock she knew, always a perfectionist when preparing for change.

“Sherlock… why?” John questioned with a bright smile, clapping his best friend on the back.

“Well I knew there might be nights where Mary might have kicked you out, but I also knew that there might be occasions that would arise where I might have to baby sit Imogen overnight, all day, or perhaps for a whole weekend. So I just got her some things and the crib so you wouldn’t have to carry around so much baby stuff.” Sherlock explained in a rush. He looked away with a blush on his cheeks, hoping they wouldn’t make too much of it. Uncle Sherlock wouldn’t admit to the sentiment that drove the action, wanting to provide for Imogen as much as he physically could, but the perfectionist in him wanted to be the best Uncle Imogen could have. “I’ll leave you three to it, then. Goodnight. I’ll text you the details as they come in on my phone.” Sherlock laughed when John affectionately grasped the back on his neck and then turned around to leave before things could get any more sentimental. It was silly really, but he would admit he was glad he had done a good, proper thing for once.

Mary and John put Imogen to bed and rested lightly as they prepared for the long night.

 

\----…----…----…----

 

Molly’s screams of pain echoed off the walls, it was far too late for an epidural by the time they arrived at the clinic, and the contractions had sped up to finally be a minute apart in the space of the few hours she spent in her room at the clinic. She smiled to Lestrade, glad that he had stayed through all of it. She held onto his hand and gave him an exhausted, grateful smile. Lestrade smiled back trying his best to maintain what little remained of his bravery. He just wanted Molly and Stuart to be okay once all of this was over.

Everything inside him was screaming to just go to a waiting room and sit this one out. He hadn’t been in the room for the entirety of the deliveries of his other children. His ex-wife had downright booted him out of the room herself, in anger that was supposed to be average for a woman in labor. Based off of his divorce, he’d have to disagree. He had always just been an adorable nuisance to her. Something she kept around to punish and prod when she got bored. But Molly needed him right now, practically begged him to climb into the hospital bed next to her to hold her every time a contraction came to pass. When she wasn’t in pain, she spent the time assuring him that she was alright and that he didn’t need to be there if he didn’t want to, though everything in the way she grabbed at his hand told the detective otherwise. He worried that the labor was becoming too much for her, as she had to try harder and harder to make it through each contraction but they didn’t stop and only got closer together.

Stacey wasn’t far, waiting just outside the room, timing the contractions. Once they were a minute apart, she and several nurses began prepping the room for the baby’s arrival. “We’re almost there, Molly.” Stacey patted her friend’s sweat soaked arm affectionately for reassurance. For a labor of a first time mother, the contractions had coalesced rather quickly. But Stacey wouldn’t question it, only glad that the vitals of both mother and baby stayed within normal levels. Molly just wanted this baby out of her, and soon. She didn’t think she could take much more of this. And she was worried for Stuart.

Once the prep work was completed, and both the nurses and Stacey were sterile wearing gowns, gloves, and masks, they propped Molly’s legs up high in the stirrups. The world was finally prepared to welcome and meet baby Stuart.

Lestrade impatiently allowed himself to be gowned as well by the nurses. Once he was dressed in sterile clothes, he was back at Molly’s side stroking her hair, telling her how beautiful she was and how much he loved her. Molly cried, but soon the pain of hearing those words was covered by the pain of an intense contraction worse than all the others.

“He’s ready to come out Molly!” Stacey announced, her eyes crinkled at the sides with excited happiness, everything else was obscured by the mask she wore. “The next one I’m going to need you push, sweetie, alright?” At Molly’s nod she reached down between Molly’s legs, now shed of the skirt she had been wearing and draped with a sheet instead to cover her modesty.

Molly screamed through another contraction, but bared down like she been taught, pushing against the resistance she felt in order to push her son out into the world. He was stubborn, not that she could blame him. Who would want to leave such comfy environs for this world that was so painful? Once she relaxed, Greg was at her side, a cool cloth being put to her forehead and neck. She smiled up to him gratefully. Taking the moment of rest to catch her breath.

“Very good Molly, one more like that and he’ll be crowning.” Stacey nodded, watching for the vital signs of the baby and Molly’s as well. Everything was alright so far, she wouldn’t announce it to the room but she was worried that the baby was being delivered too soon. He was only premature by about three weeks, but still it was something to consider. It was a little earlier than anyone in the room would have liked.

Molly screamed feeling another contraction, pushing with it. It was becoming a lot of effort, she only hoped that Stuart would come out soon. She couldn’t take much more of this. Greg held onto her hand noticing that she didn’t hold on with quite the same strength she had been and only hoped the baby would just give in and come out into the world.

“There he is, Molly! He’s crowning, I can see the head!” Greg announced, tears forming in his eyes. He couldn’t wait to see what the baby would look like.

“Okay, Molly, two more pushes like that and I think he’ll be out. Just give me two more.” Stacey encouraged, nodding to a nurse to be ready to receive the baby and take him away to be cleaned. The nurse stood by with a receiving blanket, ready and waiting.

“You can do it, Molly.” Lestrade leaned in close to look into Molly’s eyes. She kissed him, not just for strength but also to absorb just a little bit more affection from him as this last month’s bliss was now coming to an end. She would let go of him again like she did when she left London, quick, like a plaster. Then it would all be over.

Another contraction ripped through her and she screamed pushing, pushing, she didn’t stop pushing until she felt a release inside her. Everything went hazy with relief. Pain gave way to the endorphins buzzing around her body as it worked to relieve the pain she had been experiencing, and it gave her a feeling of euphoria. Stacey whooped in victory, glad that Molly was able to push him out so quickly. With two firm slaps, Stuart let out a great wail. The nurses cooed at the sound, glad that his lungs were strong. Lestrade wiped tears away from his face.

Molly reached out for Stuart, now that she was coming back down to earth. Instincts begged that she hold her new baby boy. A nurse quickly deposited the now clean baby into his mother’s arms and the staff went about routinely cleaning up Molly and the room, smiling at the scene before them. Molly heard nothing as she gazed down at her boy, her son. So this was Stuart. She could see Lestrade in his face, his features already giving way to similar whispers of handsomeness that would resemble his father’s but his eyes, his eyes were all Hooper, and looked like her father’s which looked like hers. Lestrade and Molly were painting quite the picture as they stared down at the boy they made together.

“Oh Molly’s he’s beautiful.” Lestrade announced wetly around the tears he was crying, wiping at his face before bringing a finger to his son’s hand. He smiled when the boy’s little fingers held onto his, grip strong. Molly adored him already, petting the little downy hairs to be found on his head. She hoped he would have hair like his father, especially if it turned grey early like Lestrade, she always thought it quite dashing.

“Do you want to hold your son?” Molly encouraged with a pleased smiled when Greg reached out to him not needing to be asked twice. The father of two other children was ready to take him and was already in love with the lad. He grumbled nonsensical things to his new boy calling out his name.

“What’s the baby’s surname?” A nurse questioned the parents, not sure if Molly would prefer the boy take his father’s last name or not. She needed to put something on the birth certificate.

“Lestrade. Stuart Hooper Lestrade.” Greg answered before Molly could open her mouth. Molly sighed, laying down onto the pillows beneath her with a resigned sigh. She supposed it was only fitting, just another reminder of Greg that would always be there. Greg took a picture on his phone with Stuart, and sent it off to John, Mycroft, and Sherlock. Let them see what a proud papa he was with his new baby boy. Molly relaxed and allowed Greg to have time with him. He might not want to have more once she told him what she had planned for later. For now, though she suppressed the sad thoughts in her mind and watched as Greg talked nonsense to the boy, Stuart sleeping on and not paying attention at all.

 

\----…----…----…----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought about the chapter! 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	10. Lies & Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly has given birth to Stuart, everything is fine. So she wonders why is Greg still around?
> 
> When will people stop ignoring Sherlock and let him help to fix things?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning this is not a pretty chapter. Brace yourselves. Happy Wednesday
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _Three Days Old_ ]

\----…----…----…----

Lestrade had been at the clinic every day since Stuart was born. Every moment he could he was there beside his son as the boy started to become more aware of the world around him. The only time he was apart from Molly and Stuart was to go back to the hotel room to change and shower. And these things he went and did while mother and son would be sleeping early in the morning. The nurses, BJ and Stacey all became very familiar with his presence in Molly’s room and thought he was a delight, bringing them all coffees when he went out to bring Molly food. Anything Molly needed he would provide and strode around the hallways of the clinic and the streets of Hastings with a confidence he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was a master of his life again, with Molly and Stuart happy and healthy, nothing could possibly be wrong. That’s the attitude he had when bringing Molly breakfast just three days after Stuart was born. 

Lestrade walked into the room with a smile, freshly showered and in a clean suit. Stuart was just fed and Molly had been in the process of rocking him to put him down for a nap after he let out a decent burp. Greg wordlessly lifted the paper bag before Molly, indicating that it was her breakfast before placing it on the tray table in front of her. 

Molly smiled. “Thank you.” She whispered before turning to look out the window at the Hastings landscape. The smile faded as she looked out and all of the confidence Lestrade had felt gave way to uncertainty. The atmosphere felt heavy now that he was paying attention to it. 

Greg took Stuart from Molly, without even needing to be told and put him into the hospital crib. He fondly kissed his son on his dark brown fuzzy head, petting the boy’s back so that he settled into the crib before turning back around to face Molly, who watched the exchange between father and son. He crossed his arms and licked his lips with a shrug. Something was hanging in the air in the room that wasn’t being said, that alone he could tell. He was getting tired of tip toeing around the issues they left alone.

“Well?” He rumbled into the air. “You obviously have something you‘re not saying.” 

“I do.” Molly agreed, pulling up her knees and hugging them to her. Putting a barrier between herself and Lestrade, since he was growing angrier by the second. 

“And?” Lestrade lifted his eyebrow. 

“I just don’t understand why you’re still here Greg.” Molly shook her head disbelievingly. “I’ve had the baby, everything is fine. I can take care of myself. You’ll be able to see Stuart when I get back to London. You’ve missed plenty of work. You can go home.” 

Lestrade went to look out of the window next to her bed. Trying to control the anger welling up inside him. How was he supposed to make her see? “I told you I was going be here for you and now Stuart. I’m not going back to London until you do.” He had hoped that they would be going back to London as one big happy, soon to be complete family. 

“You don’t have to do this, Greg. I told you, I’m not asking you for any sort of commitment.” Molly looked pleadingly towards Greg. This was painful, and Greg drawing this out was just making it worse. Why couldn’t he just leave? 

“You may not be asking, but I want to be here, Molls.” Lestrade argued, aggravated that she was fighting against everything he said over and over. He was here since he knew about her being pregnant. He loved their son, to pieces absolutely soft and squidgy about everything concerning his son, and he held her hand throughout the entire delivery, never left her side. What more proof did she need?

“No you don’t.” Molly shook her head sadly, looking away, not meeting his eyes. Those deep brown eyes that would tell the truth she wouldn’t want to see. 

“Then why would I be here?” Lestrade questioned flippantly. 

“Duty.” Molly’s jaw quivered, not liking to say what she thought was the truth out loud. “You feel that you need to be here because you’re Stuart’s father.” 

“That’s true, I am Stuart’s father, and proud to be but I’d be here anyway, because I want you. I want us to be a family! Together!!” Greg shouted what he wanted angrily. Once he realized that his anger got the better of him, they both looked to make sure that Stuart hadn’t stirred. He shifted in his crib, fussed, and then fell back to sleep. Molly and Greg turned back to look at each other. Molly immediately looked away morosely. 

“You don‘t mean that Greg. You’re a nice guy that just wants to do the right thing.” Molly gave a small deprecating smile. 

Lestrade felt his anger rise. She didn‘t know everything about him, he may work for the Yard but that didn‘t make him a boy scout. “Oh yeah I’m such a nice guy that I’d rather selfishly be here where I want to be, with my new son and my girlfriend than with my other kids.” He prattled sarcastically. He still hadn’t told his kids they had a new brother. Emma would be thrilled but there would be no telling what reaction he’d get from Matt. Nor what his eldest son would think of his father having another son with a woman that didn’t want to be with him, a woman he hadn’t married. Not exactly a role model, was he? “I’m not as good of a guy as you think I am, Molly.” 

“No you are, but it’s alright.“ Molly smiled fondly at him. “You don’t have to pretend to be the perfect guy anymore. You can go live your life, find someone fun who won’t tie you down to another kid, and complicate the relationships you have with Matt and Emma.” She was freeing him, why didn’t he see that? She was just trying to uncomplicated this part of his already complicated life for him.

“Molls don’t do this.” Greg pleaded. “I’ve been here because I want to be with you. I love you, please. Don’t you love me?” Greg begged.

“I love you enough to allow you to live the life you want, not force you to live the life I want you to live with me.” Molly held back a sob as tears rolled down her face. This was the sacrifice she was strong enough to make, she loved him enough to let him go.

“Do you want me to leave Molly? I told you, if I leave I won’t be coming back.” Lestrade warned, crossing his arms with tension, so angry that he was no longer shouting but was dangerously calm. 

“Then go.” Molly whispered, relieved he was giving her an out. 

“Molls wait-” Greg was flabbergasted, couldn’t believe this was his Molly saying this to him. 

“Please, Greg. Please just go.” Molly laid her head down on her knees, giving in, giving up on whatever they could have had. It wasn’t fair for her, but she owed it to herself not to tie Stuart and Greg down to a dysfunctional family and a family that wasn’t wanted in the first place. 

“Alright fine, I’ll go. And I won’t come back. I won’t see you. I’ll only visit Stuart. And you can kiss whatever we had between us goodbye. Is that what you want?” Greg threatened, finally done with Molly and her sanctimonious crap. This wasn’t about him and his life, she didn’t want to be with him. That was all.

“Yes that’s what I want.” Molly lifted her head, chest caving in and empty. She looked out into the hospital room, unseeing. 

“Fine. Goodbye. Good luck, with whatever it is that you want from this life.” Greg growled, full of rage.

“Goodbye, G-Greg.” Molly sobbed. When the door to her room slammed open, she began to weep. This was the most painful thing she had ever done. Molly thought that she had made the right decision but why didn’t it feel that way? Why did it hurt this much? Everything in her screamed for Greg, wanting him to come back and tell her he was joking, that this was all a dream. But she had let him go, he wasn’t going to be coming back. Nurses came into her room, comforting Molly as she cried out for Greg until Stacey came in to take care of her friend. Another nurse removed Stuart, who continued to cry, woken up by the slamming noise, not understanding his father wasn’t coming to his side for a while no matter how much he wailed.

\----…----…----…----

Greg stormed out of the room, knocking the door against the wall in a fit of rage. He walked out of the clinic and went back to the hotel. There was no other way to he could describe the fury rolling around inside his chest other than a furious storm. He was mad at the world for what it had done to convince Molly that he didn’t love her, he was mad at Molly for not trusting his love and giving them a chance. He was just fucking pissed off. He had put in all that effort, being there for Molly and caring for her properly until the baby came, and loved Stuart so hard it hurt, but it had all been for naught. 

He packed his bags and checked out of his room, ignoring the phone calls and text messages that came in on his mobile. Sherlock, Mycroft, and John’s name flashed on the phone repeatedly, not that any of this was their business. He was done with everything and every one of his so-called friends. They only cared that he wasn‘t making Molly happy, but what about him? What about the way she treated him? It wasn‘t right. Once again love was letting him down. He was seeing red. He pulled away from the hotel and left Hastings and didn’t stop, couldn’t think, until he was finally back in London.

Once he got back to his flat, he put down his things and marched right back out and got a bottle of whiskey. He drank shot after shot miserably, not even paying attention when he heard the knocks on the other side of his door. 

“Come on, Graham, we know you’re in there.” Sherlock called out, John’s muffled voice reproached him on the other side of the door. Greg threw the glass that was in his hand at the door. The noise of the glass shattering pierced through the empty air of the lonely flat.

“Go the fuck away, wankers! I don’t want t’see anyone!” Greg growled miserably, getting up from his chair in the living room and going to his bedroom. He closed the door and locked it for good measure. He made it through three more deep slugs from the bottle until he passed out. 

\----…----…----…----

John had to muscle Sherlock away from Greg’s door and into a cab. Once they returned to 221B, Sherlock sulked all the way to his thinking couch, tossing his coat and scarf haphazardly onto the floor along the way. John sighed knowing his friend would have a fit. He put the Belstaff and scarf on their hook and calmly went to make tea. 

Mycroft had encouraged them to go to Greg’s flat to make sure the detective inspector was alright, but John knew that would have been a wasted effort. The man was already miserably pissed by the time they got to his place. Once John had returned to the sitting room, tea in hand, Sherlock was ready to talk about it. 

“Well, that was a fruitless endeavor.” Sherlock mumbled, enumerating on John’s own thoughts out loud, accepting the tea from John instead of ignoring it. 

“I know, mate. I told you it would be.” John sighed. 

“What do we do though, John?” Sherlock worried, concerned for his friend. He worried for the state of his mind palace and the people within it.

“Nothing. Ignore him. Let him brood. When he wants to talk, he’ll talk. Probably will want to go out to the pub.” John explained. Sherlock nodded in agreement. That was really all they could do, forcing the man to talk would probably get him punched. His jaw was sore enough already.

\----…----…----…----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was intense. Hope I didn't upset anyone out there too much. Hang on, I promise this story is far from over.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	11. Back to London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuart is happy and healthy, and it's time for Molly to move on. Will she return to London? 
> 
> Will Lestrade go back to return Molly to London where she belongs? 
> 
> Keep reading...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will say I felt bad about where I left you guys Wednesday, so this chapter is a little different. A little bit entertaining, not quite so angsty. So I'm posting this now on Friday, and don't worry I will post again on Sunday like I usually do fear not. 
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _One Week Old_ ]

\----…----…----…----

It took Molly several hours after Lestrade left before she could remember how to breathe again. Now she hoped they could both move on from this. Greg to a life that he had wanted from the start, and Molly to a life of motherhood and working as a single parent.

The only thing that would get her through was knowing that she needed to provide for her son. She would be better and would keep going because she would need to, for Stuart. He was all that mattered now, it wasn’t about her and her needs anymore. As long as Stuart was doing well, she would be okay.

Several days after Greg left, Stacey declared that Molly and Stuart were both healthy enough to go back to the cottage, or to go back to London. Molly let Stacey down as gently as she could, as much as she had come to like Hastings and its environs, the people of the clinic, BJ and herself, Molly just couldn’t stop thinking about all she left behind. Really, Molly had never heard such good news. She was missing Toby and her work at the morgue. Now that she hadn’t been working hours in the clinic, the transition wasn’t really a problem as she thought it would have been. The only problem was there was no way for her to get back to London other than by train, and now that she was a mother all she could see were dangers and germs that could attack her son. Stuart yawned looking to his mother with a gurgle.

That settled it. “Well Stuart, it looks like we’re going to have to call Uncle Mycroft.” Molly reactivated her old mobile and called the number Mycroft had called her on many times before.

“ _Hello, my dear. Glad to see that you and the baby-_ ”

“Stuart.” Molly corrected with a smile. Molly wondered that he used such a plebian expression as baby and didn’t say infant.

“ _Ah, yes. Stuart. After your father, I believe. I’m glad to see you and Stuart are doing well. Though I’m happy to note that you allowed Greg to give his son the proper surname._ ” Molly winced at the mention of Greg’s name. One day she’d be able to hear it without feeling anything.

“Yes, Stuart is doing great.” Mycroft noted she didn’t mention herself, but let it go for now.

“ _To what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?_ ” Mycroft deduced from the tone in her voice, that she was looking for a safer way back to London other than the train. He nodded to Anthea and was already sending off texts for her to make arrangements for their travel to Hastings, and to cancel all his appointments for the day until Molly was safely seen back to London.

“I’m sorry to have to trouble you-” Mycroft was a busy man, Molly knew he probably didn’t have the time to shuttle her back and forth.

“ _It’s no trouble for you, Molly. Ask away._ ” Mycroft encouraged.

“Would you mind giving me a ride back to London? Or sending a car? Stuart and I have been approved for travel and I’d rather not take the train.” Molly hoped he wouldn’t ask why Lestrade wasn’t doing it, though she was sure Mycroft probably saw the fight they had and that Greg wasn’t there anymore.

“ _Absolutely Molly, no trouble at all, I’ll come myself. I’ll be there to pick you up at three o’clock. Would that be sufficient?_ ” Mycroft asked.

“Yes that’s perfect Mycroft, thank you. See you when you get here. And Stuart can meet his Uncle Mycroft.” Molly smiled down to her son as he suckled in his sleep.

“ _I look forward to it._ ” Whether Mycroft’s tone was positive or not, Molly couldn’t tell but she would look forward to seeing his face when presented with her son anyway.

\----…----…----…----

Mycroft hung up his phone with a sigh. He hated to meddle in the business of DI Lestrade but really the man left him no choice. Molly was out in Hastings alone. He was only glad to provide a much needed service to Molly in repayment for the way she helped Sherlock. They both owed her so much.

Anthea came into the room disrupting his train of thought.

“I have the car ready sir, and the Detecitve Inspector is on line one.“ Anthea smirked before walking out of the office.

“I didn’t order that.“ Mycroft called out to her, watching her figure sway as she walked away.

“I know you didn’t.“ Anthea called back smiling over her shoulder coquettishly. Minx. Sometimes she was too wise for her own good. Mycroft hesitated before straightening his back and picking up the phone. He supposed, as he cleared his throat, he could give the man one last chance to prove his worth.

“Detective Inspector.“ Mycroft announced smoothly into the phone, betraying nothing.

“ _Yeah what do you want, Holmes?_ “ Greg’s tone didn’t make him sound as if he were in a charitable mood. Mycroft sighed, knowing the response he would get but for Molly’s sake he was going to ask the man anyway.

“I was wondering if maybe you would like to be the one to get Molly from Hastings. She’s coming home today and asked me to assist her. I was just considering that maybe you would want to be the adult and go get her. It probably is the right thing for you to do, and would go a long way in breaching the gap between the two of you.“ Mycroft was hoping the man would be reasonable at the mention of something he could do for his son and in taking Mycroft’s advice on how to fix the wreck he was slowly making of his relationship with Molly.

“ _Yeah well you know what I would like? I would like you all to stay out of my business, if Molly wanted me to go get her, she would have asked me! She would have called me! Not you! **Me!!** She didn’t ask me, she asked you. If she decides magically one day that she wants me, she knows where to find me. Until then I’ll do what I **damn** well please concerning Molly, without reference to you, your dolt of a brother, John or anybody else! Ta ta, Mycroft._ ” Mycroft had pulled the phone away from his ear as soon as the Detective Inspector started yelling. He sighed and hung up the phone again when the line went dead. The man was dejected, but he didn’t have to take it out on everyone around him. Thanks to Molly, it seemed the usually charitable detective inspector was in a permanent state of derision due to his dashed hopes of Molly and himself ever being a family together.

Anthea returned to the room, hoping to hear that the car wasn’t needed. Unfortunately Mycroft didn’t have such good news for her as he gracefully put on his suit jacket. Anthea sighed and walked back to her desk to get his coat and her things as well. Mycroft would go bring Molly back to London, but he didn‘t have to pretend he liked that Greg wouldn‘t do it himself.

\----…----…----…----

In Hastings, Molly spent the better part of the morning accepting farewell gifts for Stuart at the clinic and saying a surprisingly hard farewell to Gladys. The older woman spent most of the time gushing over her tenant’s son and was giving him all the attention a new baby could want, which is to say too much. She produced gifts for the baby from a hidden secret spot and when Molly protested, Gladys looked at her pointedly, not letting her refuse. She was a newly single mother, foolish though the effort was, and didn’t have room to object to being given gifts anymore. Especially if they were for her son.

Molly opened it with a sigh, seeing that the cute little clothes, bibs, and blankets that were in the gift bag. They were truly adorable and said things on them like “mama’s boy” or “father’s son.” She thanked the older woman with tears in her eyes. It was then that a knock came on the door, and Molly sighed realizing it was already three. It was time to return to London and her normal life.

A big muscled security guard took Molly’s bags while she said one last goodbye to the cottage, and Gladys. She promised however she would visit the old woman instead of going somewhere fancier for vacation. Helping Gladys Lowell take care of her garden and sheep had never sounded like a better vacation to Molly. With one last hug Molly climbed into the car with Stuart in her arms.

When she finally took note, she saw that Mycroft had not been waiting in the car with her but was now sharing a parting word with Gladys. Anthea smiled fondly towards Molly looking down at Stuart and Molly smiled back.

“Can I hold him for you?” Anthea asked bubbling at the opportunity to hold one of the children Mycroft had suddenly felt himself responsible. For a man that didn’t embrace sentiment he was bestowing a lot of trust funds to babies. Molly settled herself in for the long car ride, hoping that Stuart wouldn’t make much of a fuss on the way to London.

Anthea held Stuart out to get a better look at him, smiling and giggling as Stuart stared at her. When he reached out to grab at her hair, she patiently took hold of his hand in her own instead, entertaining the little lad by making a show of pretending to nibble at his fingers. Stuart charmed the personal assistant by gurgling a little chuckle. Molly raised an eyebrow at this but didn’t comment just glad that someone else in car was good with babies. When she noticed he was starting to drool, she calmly passed a blanket from the gifts Gladys had given her. She didn’t have much more than gifts for Stuart. The pain from this realization was sudden and sharp. Already feeling as though she were failing as a mother, in not providing for her child’s needs. She would have to go shopping as soon as they got to London. It would be rough for the first few weeks. She could only hope that Stamford didn’t expect her back right away.

She would need to hire nannies and babysitters first. The whole process felt a bit overwhelming, but as she waited for Mycroft to come back to the car she compiled a detailed list inside her head. There were definitely going to be a great many changes to her life once she got back to her flat. She hoped Toby and Stuart would get along. She took Stuart back from Anthea, feeling despondent and lonely without her son.

Mycroft slid in smoothly shortly after Molly had drawn these conclusion about how she would proceed. And she tried not to contemplate how she accomplish all this without Greg by her side. It would just need to get done and she would do it. There was nothing useful in complaining. Mycroft smiled passively to Molly looking to the bundle in her arms.

“Well now. I’m glad you decided to come back to London my dear. You were very much missed.” Mycroft’s lip lifted in a small unsatisfied motion at the end of this, Molly noted it was probably in recollection of all the trouble everyone else had given the man over the last several months trying to learn of her whereabouts. Poor Mycroft.

“I’ll be glad once I figure out how I’m going to work and can take care of him. Oh and Stuart, be a good boy. This is your Uncle Mycroft.” Molly tried to hold in her giggles, though they were stifled, as Mycroft took Start into his arms delicately, as though the baby were made of glass and might break. Obviously, the British Government had never held a baby before. Once the town car was in motion, Molly noticed Stuart making a certain face that meant he was about to do something out of his little control.

“Well Young Stuart you seem like a fine lad.” Mycroft smiled down to the child fondly, until he produced milky spit up all over the man’s tie. Molly took Stuart back, blushing all the way to the roots of her hair. She no longer needed to make the clumsy mistakes, now that she had her son to do it for her. Anthea wordlessly wiped up the mess and provided Mycroft with one of several ties she had on hand for just such a moment. Molly had only wished Lestrade were there to see his son puke on Mycroft’s tie. He would have been so proud. Sherlock and John would appreciate it though.

When Mycroft was clean again, Molly encouraged him to take his nephew again. But Mycroft politely refused with a short wave of his hand as one might refuse a tray of hors d’oeuvres at a fancy soiree. Well that was enough of interacting with babies for Uncle Mycroft for the day.

Once Stuart was sound asleep, Anthea wordlessly took him, rocking and cooing to the baby. Mycroft observed this with a quizzical brow before he turned attention to the folders in front of him. He handed them off to Molly. When Molly gave him a questioning glance only then did he explain, as she noticed they were intelligence files on employable nannies.

“I took the liberty of interviewing several nannies for you that are in need of employment, all within an acceptable price range. If need be, I could provide you with the funds if you were willing to spend a little bit extra for a nanny that would live nearby. And when I say nearby, I meant in a flat next to yours.” At the offer of the other nannies, Molly shook off the help. Mycroft may have all the money in the world at his disposal but Molly’s sense of independence rallied against accepting it. Though in Mycroft’s mind, he wasn’t giving it to her, he was providing for his nephew.

“No thank you, Mycroft, this is more than enough.” Molly smiled glancing over the folders. There were complete employment histories of each nanny, as well as financial records, health records, and family histories. Mycroft added his own hand written notes as well with his opinions on each one. Molly looked to him with a stunned expression. How he found the time to do this and run the British Government amazed her. There were even notes from Anthea for good measure, which were from a more prudent mothering perspective. It was so thorough, Molly wondered what she was even needed for, other than to be Stuart’s milk machine. Mycroft had them ranked and though she would have rather done the interviewing herself, she knew the man would be right.

“They are all waiting on your call for the final interview.” Mycroft intimated when he noticed she was trying to figure out which one she would choose.

“I think I’ll go with the first one.” Molly went with Mycroft’s choice. She looked like a friendly enough elder woman, German, and would be stern in raising Stuart.

“Excellent choice, I think you’ll be pleased with Greta. Shall I have her meet with you today?” Mycroft asked preparing to make the phone call for Molly.

“No, I don’t need to meet with her. You chose her and everyone knows your taste is without question. She can start tomorrow.” Molly spoke remotely looking out of the window of the car. She watched as the country side was slowly giving way to sprawling towns and the towns would soon turn into the metropolis that would lead to the heart of London. Mycroft called the nanny, and then went onto other business while they were in the car at the insistence of Anthea. Molly took her son in her arms and let the duo get back to the work she had been interrupting.

London couldn’t come soon enough.

\----…----…----…----

They pulled up to the familiar door that led to Molly’s apartment, and once in the door, Molly let out a sigh of relief. Home. Things would finally return to normal. Though not the normal that Molly had been expecting. But it would all soon feel normal enough that she could pretend she didn’t miss Greg and his touch a great deal. That the absence of his love didn’t leave a gaping scar on her heart tissue. Anthea passed Stuart off to Molly and left for the car with a final kiss to the baby’s cheek. Mycroft came in to look around, noticing with a sneer the cat that was incessantly mewing at his familiar’s ankles and weaving around them.

“Well I’ll leave you to get reacquainted.“ Mycroft leaned down to kiss the crown of Molly’s head. “Welcome back.“ Mycroft left without another word, closing the door to her flat behind him. Molly locked it, looking around to take stock of the place. It was as she left it, not a thing out of place, which surprised her since Jessa had been living there for a while. Toby mewed even harder, not used to not being paid attention to, but he was glad that the smell on his familiar was no longer attached to her but now seemed to be in the bundle in her arms. Molly rolled one of her suitcases into her bedroom, even in her bedroom there appeared to be nothing amiss. It was as she left it that fateful night.

Molly sighed, sitting down haphazardly on her couch, Stuart barely stirred. There was so much to do. He didn’t even have a nursery to sleep in. She would have to get started on that if Stuart was going to become comfortable in his home. She looked to Toby, who quietly came to get the pets he knew were well deserved. He didn’t make a mess or a fuss at all while she was gone. Not even when that annoying unfamiliar came to take his familiar’s place for the time she was there. Though the unfamiliar had been quite generous in the dolling out of his treats, so he was only mildly perturbed when she left, only to come back to see to his water and food bowls. Now his familiar was back and everything was at it should be.

Molly accepted his kisses, and petted him, allowing the cat to rub up all against her. She hoped he would like Stuart. “Toby, I have someone here I would like you to meet.” Toby licked his mouth looking down at the bundle. “And he’s not food.” Molly warned. This took the cat by surprise as he looked down. Why else would this bundle be wrapped so nicely if it was not a treat for him, as a way of apology for the time his familiar was away. The small thing barely looked like anything Toby should be concerned about. It seemed to be the offspring of his familiar judging by the smell. Fine, he could welcome this new addition, since he didn’t pose that much of a threat to Toby’s position with his familiar. When Stuart fussed, Molly soothed him and Toby rubbed against the offspring’s blanket, to his familiar’s delight. He supposed he could accept it’s place here if all it did was sleep. Toby climbed off the couch and took his place in Molly’s chair, finally able to relax after months of waiting for his familiar to return. He curled up in his place and purred contently.

Molly smiled getting up with Stuart to now look in the guest bedroom, she would need to take measurements if she was going to get to work turning it into a nursery. Maybe she could get Greg to watch Stuart, or help her put together some of the furniture. He‘d like that. To her shock, the door was decorated with ribbons and bows. “It’s a boy,” was written on the banner hanging in front of it, and when she opened the door to her amazement it was all set up ready for Stuart’s arrival. There wasn’t even a smell of fresh paint, and smelled instead like baby, meaning this had been done well in advance. Molly only wondered who she would have to thank for this great gift.

The crib was full of stuffed animals, blankets and baby towels. Stuart slept on despite being changed and placed in the crib and covered with a blanket. Once he was settled for the night, Molly went into her room to see about unpacking. Though she wasn’t sure what to do about most of the clothes she wore while pregnant that wouldn’t fit her anymore. As she stuffed them into a box at the back of her closet, she foolishly hoped that she could possibly need them again one day.

When she tried to go to sleep that night, she felt incredibly lonely, now that Lestrade wasn’t there to warm her bed. It was the same problem she found in Hastings only now there were memories to haunt her as well as the cool space on the sheets beside her while she slept. With a huff, Molly rose from her bed, taking her comforter with her and went into the nursery. There seemed to be a plush enough chair and ottoman in the room, which was probably only to be for feedings so that she could rest comfortably while Stuart ate, but Molly sighed. It would do for her purposes. To hell with everything, she was going to sleep in the chair in the glow of her son and not relive painful memories instead of sleep.

She slept fitfully, stirring whenever Stuart made a sound or was in need of feeding or changing. It wasn’t a good rest but she did sleep and that was all that mattered.

\----…----…----…----

Molly was using the wee morning hours while Stuart was freshly changed and sleeping to shower after such a long night. She didn’t even look at herself in a mirror, not chancing the self-confidence nosedive that would occur from poking and prodding at her ravaged form. It was enough to have to run her hands over her body and note the visceral changes, getting to know this new version of herself. Mothers continually sacrificed so much for their children, it was no surprise that they would sacrifice their figures just bringing a new life into the world. She couldn’t blame Greg if he sought out a younger, hotter woman to attract his attention. Motherhood wasn’t exactly the sexiest feature, of which her body was testament.

Molly was economical with her time, not wanting all of her worst thoughts to come forward, and turned off her shower to the sound of scraping at the locks on her front door. She was on full alert when she heard the door to her flat opening without even a knock. Sherlock had always said that she should get her locks changed. She had never bothered before, but motherhood changed her perspective on a lot of things.

When she entered the hallway, she realized whoever came into her flat when right for the nursery. The person that broke into her flat was stealthy and barely made a sound. When Stuart started to cry, Molly ran for the room. At the familiar rumbles of a deep baritone known only to Sherlock, Molly sighed in relief on the other side of the door. She used the distraction to get dry and dressed so that she could make breakfast and tea.

She was definitely going to need plenty of it today.

\----…----…----…----

Sherlock in the interim was using his time alone with Stuart to get acquainted with the lad. He definitely looked like Lestrade, more so than Molly. Though the bright honey in his eyes were definitely from his mother. But none of that was surprising, sons usually always take after the father. Stuart woke seeing the consulting detective looking down at him from on high over the crib, and the man had a funny deducing face with a crown of curly black hair. This all amused him greatly, he reached out for one as Sherlock got in close to sniff and make sure Stuart didn’t need changing. When Stuart tugged on Sherlock’s coat lapels, Sherlock lifted the newborn into his arms.

“Stuart, I am your Uncle Sherlock.” Sherlock instructed the boy with a serious face. The baby gurgled in response that was working its way to be a giggle. “I hope you shall not be as dimwitted as your father and instead take after your mother and her interest in science.” Sherlock looked at the boy suspiciously, aristocratic brow lifting in question. When the lad squinted his eyes, a look of curiosity on his face, Sherlock was satisfied. His mother’s intelligence and sense of curiosity mixed with his father’s easy charm. The boy would be a force to be reckoned with, just like his cousin Imogen. At least Sherlock hoped they would grow up to be cousins together.

Stuart started to demand his diaper be changed and without missing a beat, Sherlock began the process. He continued on with the speech he had prepared to let the boy know he had a tough job ahead in the months to come.

“I realize that you were just born almost a week ago, but I’m afraid to say that we don’t have the luxury of you getting comfortable.” Stuart nibbled on his fist not giving Sherlock much attention. “Your mama and papa have been stubborn children, which is saying much talking to you. However I need you to be a good boy for them and not be annoying.” Sherlock watched a stream of pee shoot up into the air, before he covered it with the diaper. He gave a derisive look at the baby, letting him know that when he meant annoying, that would fall under the category of such behavior. He cleared his throat, putting a fresh diaper under the boy and continued where he left off in his speech. “Then when your papa is here to watch you, and your mama comes home that’s when you shall need to be adorable so that your mama can see what a perfect family you three will make together. If all goes according to plan I would say it will only take about three months for us to get them back together. Six months on the outside.” This serious talk caused Stuart to burp, gurgling a laugh. Sherlock smiled down at the baby fondly. “I know it’s a big job but someone’s got to do it, unfortunately they won’t listen to any of the adults, and they both are least likely to listen to me or your Uncle Mycroft – don’t worry about him, you’ll meet him later - so I’m afraid it must fall on you. It’s not your fault but you still have to do this for them. Your mama deserves to be happy, and happy is your mama when she’s with your papa.” Sherlock finished this soliloquy just as he heard Molly puttering around in the kitchen by the door. Stuart was just beginning to fuss for his morning meal. Sherlock lifted the baby into his arms, passively kissing the head with affection and brought him out to the kitchen where Molly was preparing his morning bottle.

“Ah, Sherlock, making friends with Stuart I see.” Molly smiled at the pair fondly.

“Just getting acquainted with my new nephew. He’s beautiful Molly, congratulations.” Sherlock said smoothly kissing her cheek and passing her Stuart effortlessly.

Molly felt the diaper, and noticed it was fresh. She looked to Sherlock in utter surprise. “You changed him!” Sherlock rolled his eyes at her mentioning the obvious.

“Of course I changed him, I’ve been doing it for Imogen since she was born. Five months ago. Imogen is almost ready to start talking, I can sense it. Just a matter of time now.” Sherlock smiled, beaming with pride. “I’m hoping her first word will be eyeballs.“ Had it really been that long since Imogen was born? Mary was due for a whole host of apologies from Molly. Sherlock seeing that Molly’s thoughts were immediately self-chastising, knew a subject change was in order. “So how long until I can expect my favorite pathologist back in the morgue?” Sherlock smiled, his face open but cunning, waiting for his polite manners to catch Molly unawares like Sherlock was accustomed.

But Sherlock had not met this new Molly. Immediately the affable Molly from before was locked away and before him was a Molly he had yet to know. This cold Molly was not a Molly he liked. This was the Molly that had been let down before and didn’t want to get close to anyone ever again. It was like looking into a mirror of himself.

Molly politely but firmly escorted Sherlock to the door with thanked him for stopping by. When Sherlock realized he was on the wrong side of her threshold she warned him that if he barged in again without permission he would have to answer to the Yard.

“Molly wai-” Sherlock couldn’t finish his sentence before the door was slammed in his face.

Well that was new, he immediately sent texts off to John seeing if he could explain this phenomena.

\----…----…----…----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion I can draw from this chapter, Holmes' + babies = adorableness. That's just a given I think. 
> 
> Let me know if you think so too!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	12. Plead the Fifth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now back in London, Molly adjusts to her old life, reacquainting herself with everyone and getting used to being a mother. 
> 
> Everyone around her is waiting patiently for her to finally admit to her feelings for Greg, including Greg himself. 
> 
> Molly just wonders when everyone will just leave her alone so she can deal with her misery and raising Stuart in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to stay up late to do some laundry, so you all will be getting this now, in the wee hours of the morning this Sunday, instead of in the late afternoon. 
> 
> Hope you guys like this chapter, little angsty but with some cute moments thrown in there. We're nearing the end of this, though as I read I'm still not sure whether or not I should draw it out. I'm not one to let these things simmer - like I said - I wish for a happy ending as much as the next person.
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _Two Weeks Old_ ]

 

\----…----…----…----

 

The rest of the week went by uneventfully. Greta showed just after she booted Sherlock from her house. She was a stern woman, but succinct and orderly in her duties. She didn’t hover and made sure that Molly spent all the time with her son that she wished. The woman went around tidying after Molly and eventually encouraged Molly to consider going back to work. She didn’t press the issue but understood it was hard for mothers to leave their babies. However when she encouraged Molly to contact her son’s father Molly told her stiffly that she would make her own decision concerning her son and his father.

Greta simply smiled and offered to get Molly some tea. The subject laid between the two women forgotten.

The first weekend Molly was back in London came a text from John and Mary wondering if Aunt Molly would finally like to meet Imogen. After excited pleas, and an effusive phone call, Mary and John brought Imogen, take away for dinner and also brought Sherlock in tow. Though he wouldn’t come over her threshold until given permission, making him even more a mysterious specter to behold by the German nanny than most people would assume upon first meeting him. He introduced himself and when she recognized the name Holmes, it became more mysterious still.

If she watched the Holmes men from the corner of her eye, as long as she cared for Stuart, Molly would pretend not to notice. Even if the nanny thought Sherlock was a vampire. It was probably better for the nanny that she assumed something suspicious of the Holmes men. Since there were visitors Greta excused herself for the rest of the weekend, and Molly allowed it, glad for some privacy with her friends.

Once the elder stout woman left the air in the apartment became a bit easier. Her every move wasn’t being observed by a mere stranger, just her family. Molly played with Imogen, glad to finally see the Watson baby. Her fair locks were starting to curl at their ends, and Mary had taken to piling the hair in a bow high on her head. While Molly was playing with her and getting to know her new niece, Mary and John were marveling at how quickly they were noticing little expressions in Stuart’s face that already resembled Greg.

“Though he does have your eyes Molly!” John encouraged, looking sheepish at the mention of Greg’s name. Neither John nor Mary knew how to begin but Mary encouraged both John and Sherlock to go to the nursery. It was time for Mary and Molly to have some time to themselves, mother to mother, woman to woman. Mary went to the kitchen and wordlessly made tea, while Molly set about cleaning the living room.

Once she came into the kitchen with the left over take away, Mary leaned against the counter as their teas brewed. “Molly I know-”

“No you don’t.” Molly laughed derisively, Mary had John. She had no idea.

“I wasn’t always Mary Watson you know. I have a past. So when I say I know, give me the benefit of the doubt that I might.” Mary scolded before Molly could continue to be angry with her.

“Sorry.” Molly immediately apologized. It was easier to think herself alone in the world, than actually think herself surrounded by those that cared about her.

“It’s alright, no one knows much about my life before John. I barely remember much of it now, myself. Except of course for things no one would ever forget.” Molly watched the distant expression that flooded Mary’s expression and hugged her friend.

Mary hugged her back clinging to Molly. Neither of them were alone, now that they had each other, and all of the adventures the men in their lives drug them into.

“So why don’t you tell me what happened?” Mary encouraged with a smile. Molly winced with an expression that pleaded for Mary not to go there, but Mary encouraged Molly to sit down and waited patiently until Molly opened up about it all from the beginning.

Several cups of tea later, Mary sighed, seeing what a mess both her best friend and Lestrade had made of the situation. Molly for thinking she didn’t deserve to be happy with Greg, to trust in Greg, and Greg for being too angry to stay and work on what they had together. The question remained how to encourage Molly to unravel this herself and if that could be done.

“You do love him though, don’t you Molly?” Mary asked, concerned about Molly’s feelings.

“How is that even a doubt? Of course she does Mary, obvious. It’s written all over her face every time she looks around the flat and thinks of him.” Sherlock deduced tactlessly as he and John reentered the grown up atmosphere from finally getting Imogen and Stuart to sleep. It took a lot of playing, and Pirate Sherlock had to put on a show of fighting the dreaded Captain Watson, with Imogen and Stuart as his first mates but eventually the babies fell asleep. John ran his hand over his face in frustration. With a look from Mary that chilled him to the bones, Sherlock apologized and went to the living room to wait for his tea.

John brought them their mugs laughing until Sherlock growled for him to shut up. He threw himself on the couch for a sulking session, not liking to be the butt of John’s jokes, which were happening with more frequency the more Mary exhibited her mother powers - as John deemed them - over him. He didn’t even stir when Toby curled himself up on Sherlock’s head. A habit Toby got into doing when Sherlock stayed in the familiar flat during his fake death.

John merely sighed and went to join the grownups at the kitchen table, having enough of children for one day. Especially if said children were grown adult consulting detectives.

Mary and Molly had watched the two men without a word until John came into join them.

Once John sat down the couple looked to Molly expectantly waiting for her to answer Mary’s question.

“I do love him more than anything.” Molly gasped a halting sigh of relief, glad to finally say it out loud. Without Greg in her life, it took everything within her just to take a breath, just to start each morning knowing he wouldn’t be in it. But she would rather him be happy if that meant it wasn’t by her side.

“Then why don’t you tell him that?” John asked, taking Mary’s hand in his own. John knew the man would like to hear nothing more than that.

“I just can’t John.” Molly shook her head.

“Why not? You know he loves you too, don’t you?” Mary questioned taking a sip of tea.

“I love him enough to give him the life he deserves. He doesn’t want to have a family with me.” Molly got up to retrieve the kettle wordlessly refilling all of their tea mugs.

“You know what a load of crap that sounds like Molly.” Mary gave her a disbelieving look. “He loves Stuart, you should see all the pictures he sent John.”

At Molly’s questioning glance, John produced his phone and slid it across the table. Molly swiped her finger over the screen again and again, there were pictures of Stuart, pictures of Greg holding Stuart, pictures of her and Stuart sleeping, including pictures Greg had taken with himself in it, and pictures of her playing with Stuart, taken while she wasn’t looking and she had thought Greg asleep.

“Prove to me that a man who doesn’t want a family would take all those pictures.” John smiled, feeling himself victorious.

“You really need to talk to him Molly.” Mary encouraged.

“I will.” Molly said quickly to placate her friends. When she stood up to clean her mug at the sink, John and Mary shared a worried look. “I just need to get settled here again. He’ll probably want to come by and see Stuart anyway and I told him he could see his son whenever he wanted.”

“Good!” Mary exclaimed standing up to get ready to leave. John started to do the same. Sherlock wordlessly went into the nursery and retrieved a soundly sleeping Imogen. “That means you can invite him to the baby shower!” Molly sputtered.

“N-No! You’re not…”

“Jessa thought it was a great idea! And you need things for the baby. I’ve already started a registry and sent out invitations, its next Saturday. Right here! Don‘t worry Jessa and I are taking care of everything. All you have to do is show up!” Mary said brightly kissing Molly on the cheek. They gathered up Imogen’s diaper bag and were out of Molly’s flat before Molly could raise any more objections.

 

\----…----…----…----

 

Mycroft visited her every day during his lunch hour for the second week of her being back in London. Molly had begun to expect him and ordered Greta to have tea waiting. Greta would remain in a corner of the room whenever Molly had the baby in the room, with her back ramrod straight. At the first fuss from Stuart, she would be at Molly’s elbow removing the baby from sight. Molly wondered who was the real boss, herself or Mycroft. But then she supposed that anyone greeted with the possibility of being under a Holmes’s watchful eye as an employee would do the same.

He would inquire after Stuart’s health, how he was progressing and when she would go back to work. She couldn’t quite think of work yet but she was getting into a nice routine with Stuart that she hoped would stay for the duration until he became a toddler. Mycroft made an attempt to ask when she’ll admit that she cares for Lestrade just as much as he does for her, and Molly gave him a face that silenced him almost immediately. Though he did ask if she planned to stay in London, which gave Molly pause. How like Mycroft Holmes to see through her as if she were rice paper. Unlike Sherlock John and everyone else, Mycroft was well aware that there was still a danger of her possibly moving back to Hastings. A place wholly unconnected from anything having to do with Greg, where she was more than welcome. Whether or not anyone else chose to acknowledge it, he knew it was on Molly‘s mind.

Mycroft was concerned that Molly was entertaining the notion a great deal, but sipped his tea and made his daily visits anyway. The sooner Molly invited Greg over to tend to his fatherly duties the better.

Mycroft only hoped the effort wouldn’t come too late.

 

\----…----…----…----

 

That weekend came the baby shower. Molly had no idea how Mary and Jessa did it but the baby shower just poured in around her and Stuart. Eventually the baby was even removed from her arms so that she could help set out the food and pretend that she was just one of the adults. Jessa and Stuart played on the floor when there was a timid knock at her door. Molly went to the door shocked to see an awkward Greg Lestrade on the other side of it.

Mary had asked every day if she had invited Greg, like her best friend had told her to do. Eventually when it came to be around Thursday, Mary had done the inviting herself. Greg said he’d go only because it was the first time since leaving Hastings that he would see Stuart. He missed his son desperately enough to show up, even without the invite from Molly that he would have needed. He wanted to make it perfectly clear to anyone that would listen. He was there for Stuart, and only for Stuart. That was all. In no way was he there as an effort to win Molly back. He only wished as he had knocked the door to her flat that it wasn’t going to be awkward.

When their eyes met the air in the room immediately changed, static electricity charging up the atmosphere. Her ears filled with white noise. Molly supposed it was hard to pretend that they hadn’t had the best sex she ever had or would ever have again. That her heart didn’t lurch, aching for him whenever he was in front of her. Greg couldn’t forget the fact that Molly continued to still deny him the happiness with her that his whole being ached for, everything else in his life now was grey and tasted stale.

Mary walked into the room and tried to diffuse the tension. “Wotcher Greg!” Mary gave an overly excited smile in Greg’s direction.

“Mary.” Greg called to Mary in absolutely no humor to play games around the feelings between himself and the mother of his son. “Can I come in?” Greg asked shifting the rather heavy gift he brought from one arm to the other, wanting quite honestly to put it down. At the opportunity to buy a gift for his son, Greg might have splurged… a bit.

Molly stepped back to allow Greg to come in without a word, her throat too tight to make any come out. Her mind was completely blank when presented with a casually dressed Greg. She was used to his suits, the detective inspector, sexy and confident. She had never seen the detective inspector when he was in his dad clothes, relaxed and charming. Jeans, comfortable loafers, a relaxed plaid button down and a buttery soft tan leather jacket completed the picture.

Stuart watched his mother and father stand before each other awkwardly until he called out. At the noise Greg looked down with a wide smile, putting the heavy gift on the coffee table next to the beginnings of the growing pile. Stuart was trying to currently wiggle his way towards his father, which at only a couple weeks old, proved to be nearly impossible. Greg was now completely distracted by his son, as he lifted the boy into his lap, cooing nonsense and covering the boy with kisses. Jessa and Mary watched Molly’s guarded reaction to this but were both distracted soon after when more of Molly’s friends started to show.

With the added distraction of the party, Molly barely paid attention to Greg’s presence in her flat. Only when she had a moment, after games or eating in the kitchen did she notice how good Greg was playing with his son and taking care of him. How naturally the role of father came to him as naturally as the role of detective inspector. She had never seen this side of Greg before, having never met his other children. Molly tried to pretend that she didn’t find this attribute about the man horrible addictive and dangerously attractive. Molly didn’t even need to check on the boy once. Whenever he fussed, Greg immediately knew how to soothe him. Until it was time for his feeding, Greg wordlessly brought the boy into the kitchen but when Molly went to take him, Greg refused to let him go.

“I was wondering if I could bottle feed him? While I’m here…“ Greg asked awkwardly, a few of Molly’s friends excused themselves from the kitchen, except for Mary who pretended to be busy cleaning while listening to the exchange between mother and father. Greg was starved for quality time with his son, feeding the boy would only add to that experience. Molly nodded her assent. Greg watched, rocking a fussy Stuart, as Molly wordlessly produced a bottle of milk from the fridge and began to warm it. Once it was the correct temperature, Greg took Stuart back into the living room with a towel and began to feed him without another word to Molly. Molly sighed and started to prepare tea for the cake.

“Alright everyone! Time for presents!” Mary announced before Molly could wallow in any bad feelings that were brewing along with the tea.

The more presents Molly opened the more grateful she felt for her friends. They basically supplied her with all of the gadgets, supplies, toys and accessories she needed for the baby, everything that had been on her list that she hadn’t yet a chance to go out and purchase. Now she didn‘t have to, didn’t have to worry about how she was going to afford the purchasing of them, it was all there as she looked at the many scattered gifts.

“Well I guess that’s it!” Molly smiled, sadly. The party would wind down now and then Greg would probably stay behind to be with Stuart. Molly began to grow nervous at the thought.

“No wait there’s one more!” Mary smiled indulgently, bringing forward the large box that Greg had brought. Purposefully saving the most important gift for last. “This one’s from the proud papa!” She told the crowd of women to resounding coos.

Greg halted all his playing with Stuart, except for wagging the boy’s new rattling stuffed bunny in front of the boy’s face. He watched from beneath his brow, his ears turning red, as Molly slowly ripped at the paper covering the front of the box. You would have thought that Molly, in all of her systematic neatness would have calmly ripped at the edges and slowly pulled the paper off, but that was not Molly when unwrapping presents. Greg noted this with a smile. Presents were not for neatness. She let out a surprised exhalation when she saw the picture on the front of the box. It was a giant, ride-able, antique metal fire engine. Something for Stuart to grow into, something he would cherish for the rest of his life.

Molly stifled a small cry before meeting Greg’s eyes with a small smile. “His first fire engine.” Greg nodded seriously in reply.

“I know it’s a bit much but he’ll grow into it.” Greg smiled down at his son fondly, clearing his throat against the emotion in his chest. The boy was making futile attempt to grab for the bunnies ears, wondering why he couldn’t reach the bunny that was clearly in front of him. His father hoped that he would get the chance to watch Stuart grow up to the age where he would be able to ride around in the fire truck with an excited smile on his mouth, that would display his growing and missing teeth. Right now, just moments like these he could spend with his son seemed like a lot.

“No!” Molly looked around awkwardly at the rest of the party suddenly stopped doing other things awkwardly during the interaction between the not-coupled couple. Molly blushed, looking to Lestrade who smiled fondly at her, eyes sparkling, making Molly’s heart take an unexpected leap. “No. It-It’s great!” Molly took a reinforcing breath. “I’ll go set it up!” Molly smiled excusing herself. Greg passed off the toy in his hand to a waiting Mary and followed Molly.

“Wait! I’ll help.” Greg called out behind her, going into the spare room that was now his son’s nursery. He had expected it to be barely furnished but looked around in awe as it was a fully furnished and decorated. “Wow. Molls, did you do this all in a week without calling to ask me for help?” Greg looked to Molly, who still had her backed turned. She had excused herself so that no one would have seen her cry, it only occurred to her now that Greg would follow. She wiped at her eyes and took a few shuddering breaths, cluing Greg into her being upset. “Molly-” Even though he was angry at the way she was behaving, he didn’t like to see her hurting.

“I’m okay.” Molly turned around and gave him a weak smile. “Jessa, Mary and John did it before I got back.” She got down on her knees and began to open the box. Greg wordlessly got down on the floor beside her and helped put the toy together. Once it was done, he rose back up, grimacing at the protesting pops of his forty-ish year old joints. He couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have Stuart at his age, when he thought he wouldn’t have any life at all. His children were both older and didn’t need him as much anymore, the family he had hoped to have with them had been destroyed by his unrepentant ex-wife. It was a second chance to have the love in his life that he had wanted. Greg looked around the room with a fond smile, glad that Molly hadn’t needed to do anything for the nursery. He imagined she would have built the furniture herself, and not called him at all. This was better, this was perfect. He would take John Mary and Jessa out to dinner one night to repay them. He turned around to see Molly watching him as he looked around the room, wondering what he was thinking.

Greg opened his mouth to say something just as a knock came from the door, Jessa opened it shyly. “Sorry guys, um, Molly, Stuart’s crying and I didn’t know what to do.” Jessa shrugged, holding the tired boy in her arms. His fussing stopped once he was in view of his parents, with a sniffle and a very adorably pathetic pout on his face.

When Stuart saw his father was in the room he reached out for the man. Greg took the boy into his arms automatically. “Oh hullo lil man! What’s all this fuss about, eh? Ya tired?” All Greg got in response was a yawn. “Yes you are! And rightly so! You’ve had a very big day opening presents and all those people.” Greg smiled kissing the boy’s fuzzy head. Greg looked to Molly who smiled, reaching for her son. It wasn’t entirely right that she got out of taking care of Stuart completely just because Greg was here. Greg drew away, afraid Molly would try to excuse him from having time with his son. “I’ve got him Molls, why don’t you go say goodbye to everyone.” Lestrade encouraged, talking nonsense to his son.

Molly gave him a tight lipped smile and nodded leaving the room. Jessa gave Lestrade an empathetic look, waving goodbye to Stuart before closing the door until it was ajar.

Molly must have been radiating tension, it wasn’t long before she came back out that many of her guests made excuses and hasty exits. Once the cleaning was well past the need for three people, Jessa said her goodbyes, laughing when Molly encouraged her to stay anytime she liked so that she could redecorate her living room while Molly was away. Jessa was just glad that she was back in London, and that Greg was such an attentive father and only had eyes for Molly. As a friend, Jessa knew that Molly just needed some time, but hoped that it wouldn’t be too late for her and Greg. Now, only Mary remained.

“I’ve got this Mary you can go home. I’m sure John would enjoy the reprieve and Imogen is probably missing her mummy.” Molly smiled at the mention of her niece, looking to the picture that now decorated her fridge.

“Actually if I know John, he’d have called Sherlock after a couple hours and they’ll be entertaining her by play acting pirates.” Mary rolled her eyes fondly at her strange family. She sighed, there wasn’t much more cleaning to be done just some extra cake plates and a few mugs left to clean. Her work for the day was done. She pointed out a list she made of who gave Molly what so that she could send thank you notes, and kissed Molly on the cheek before departing. Molly was always sad to see people leave after a party, everything seemed so empty without the noise.

She had begun to finish the cleaning of her kitchen when she heard rumbled singing coming from the nursery. Greg. Was he singing? He never sang, not even for Molly, even though he spoke fondly of being member of several rotating punk bands during the eighties. Molly tip toed to the nursery and slowly opened the door so that it wouldn‘t creak. With his back to the door, Greg was rocking a sleeping Stuart while singing him an old English lullaby. “Dance to your Daddy, my little laddie, Dance to your Daddie, my little man…” Molly listened to him sing to his son, getting just as lost as Stuart in the rumbles of Greg’s deep voice. When Greg rocked his way around and saw that Molly was watching them, he saw the longing in Molly’s face immediately covered by a passive expression. He just didn’t understand it, but for now, he would just continue to be with Stuart. Stuart would be his main focus. Molly clearly didn’t want him, and Greg wouldn’t sit around and beg for Molly to finally want him as badly as he wanted her. Greg ended his song while easing Stuart into his crib.

He kissed his son’s cheek, caressed his little nose, and placed a blanket gently over the boy, holding his finger to his lips until they were on the other side of the door.

“Thanks for staying with him.” Molly smiled, trying to be at ease with Greg’s presence even though everything within her screamed when even in the same room with him.

“You know if you wanted to go get a shower and relax for a little while longer, I could stay and keep an eye on him just in case he wakes up.” Greg wanted nothing more than to stay, to stay forever.

“No, thanks, I’ll be okay.” Molly smiled getting Greg his jacket. He took it without comment, merely saluting his farewell, but wanting so badly not to be on the wrong side of that door.

Molly finished cleaning up around the apartment and sorted through the gifts by herself, realizing, and not for the first time, how she felt very much alone.

 

\----…----…----…----

 

Sunday Molly was dealing with a very fussy Stuart, who just wouldn’t stop crying no matter what Molly did to soothe him, when her mobile broke through the caterwauling of Stuart’s screams. He just wouldn’t get settled, and today was Greta’s day off, regrettably. Leaving a fussy Stuart to take his fit in his crib, Molly took the phone call seeing Stamford’s number.

“Wotcher, boss!” Molly hoped her voice sounded brighter than she felt, like she was handling this whole mother thing better than it appeared.

“ _Hullo, Molly! Is that Stuart I hear?_ ” Mike questioned, hearing a rather impressive wail from the other end of the mobile.

“Yeah sorry, we’re being fussy today.” Molly smiled into the phone hearing Stamford laughing commensurately. She was glad that her boss understood.

“ _Listen Molly, I know you’re just getting settled in and everything but it’s been a month technically since you’ve been back from Hastings._ ” Stamford voiced the obvious into the phone. She had been away from work for long enough. “ _I’m having trouble justifying your absence to the board any longer. Sorry but you have to come back soon._ ” Molly could hear that Mike was regretting this a little bit but his hands were tied.

“How about next week?” Molly suggested squinting against a blood curdling scream echoing from the kitchen. Mike actually had to pull the phone away from his ear for that one.

“ _How about Monday._ ” Molly noted that it wasn’t posed as a friendly suggestion.

“Alright Mike, see you tomorrow then! Gotta go. Ta!” Molly got off the phone just in time to watch Stuart try to wiggle his way about the crib, not wanting him to hit his hands on anything or worse his head. Mother and son regarded each other for a moment before he started shouting again. With a sigh, Molly took him into her arms and began to soothe him as best as she knew how and resisted the urge to call Greg and ask for his help. She had a feeling that Stuart’s crying was partially due to Greg’s absence.

Everyone around her, even Stuart, wanted to know when she and Greg would be getting back together, as impossible as that notion sounded to her. Molly just wanted to be left in peace.

 

\----…----…----…----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwwwh Lestrade is so adorable... I can't help it. I have a thing for men secure in their position in the world, capable of looking after children and not actually being children. Lovely... 
> 
> Let me know what you all think, if I should add more chapters towards the end. I wouldn't know really how to... or wait... maybe I do?!?!?! Okay never mind I thought of something. Don't worry. It will probably be written right now and you all will none be the wiser. Just keep reading...
> 
> Don't worry those one shots are coming as well I promise.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	13. Back to Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do things stand between the couple now that Molly is back to working at the morgue? 
> 
> Will the tension flare? Will Molly continue to lie to those around her except her closest family?
> 
> Will Greg be able to reach out and assert his role in Molly's life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this comes so late tonight, I had an interview today and just didn't have the wherewithal to edit and post up a new chapter until now. 
> 
> I also used the day to apply for the GREs. Wish me luck my readers! And don't worry, graduate school won't stop me from writing, not even for a moment and a day.
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _One Month Old_ ]

 

\----…----…----…----

 

Molly got off the tube near Bart’s Hospital and walked the two blocks with halting footsteps. She had left Stuart alone with Greta for the first time, and even though she knew Mycroft probably had CCTV watching the woman’s every move, Molly’s whole body screamed to go back to her child and make sure he was safe. She missed everything about him. But, as she squared her shoulders, Molly decided that she had put off going back into work long enough. It was time to reenter her grown up life, and she needed the money desperately. The money she had earned at Hastings was a fraction of what she was used to, and with two people needing her salary instead of just one, Molly was running low on funds. She groaned internally thinking of all the savings she had blown through on Stuart alone this month, concluding what every parent knew to be true. Baby shite was expensive.

She wouldn’t even contemplate asking Greg for money. He already put out for his other children, she’d never let herself ask the question. Even if he did try to provide for his son, it was her job to look after her child. She let Greg get out of the responsibility of looking after their son. All he had to do was have a relationship with his son, that’s all she asked, even though that was the one thing he was currently struggling to do with his children from his first marriage. But even though she was entitled to it, she just couldn’t ask for the child support for her own son that Greg’s ex-wife forcibly demanded of him for their children. She didn’t want to tie him down with responsibilities, she would have been fine if Greg had just moved on entirely. Now though that it was clear he had a bond with his son, Molly wouldn’t take that away from Stuart. She couldn’t deny anything from her child.

Molly entered the familiar environs of St. Bart’s, gladly inhaling the familiar sterile smells. Molly waved at familiar faces, accepting polite welcome backs and handshakes until she finally got to the morgue. With a sigh of relief she walked into the familiar space, now truly happy to be back at work, but everything was a mess. Molly would have to spend at least two days organizing around the morgue but it wasn’t too much of a bother. She would probably enjoy it as much as performing the postmortems.

Instead of starting in on the organizing, she put her stuff into her locker and went in search of her friend and boss. Molly knocked on the lab she found Mike Stamford in, accepting the excited hug from the man. When asked about the baby, Molly produced the photos without comment, accepting the praise over her handsome son. She dimpled thinking about how everyone was right, even if he did resemble Greg that was a good thing. Her son would be a dashing man when he grew up, just like his devastatingly handsome father. For all the trouble it took to have him, that’s for all she could hope.

After a little discussion about her re-assimilation into her old duties, Stamford begrudgingly told her she probably wouldn’t get away from working surprise night shifts and the like, familiar with what she had needed to do before. Molly nodded, nervous at the thought. She would have to definitely find a babysitter, just in case.

With one last welcome back, Stamford excused her and let her go back to her morgue.

Molly patiently went through the process of reorganizing what had been pulled apart in her absence. A mountain of paperwork that hadn’t been filed sat on her desk, and around her desk, and on her chair. Supplies in the closet needed to be resorted, and overall she wondered how the men who ran the morgue did it without her.

Molly had gone through the task of cleaning the morgue to be reasonably workable and realized that she had unknowingly skipped lunch. She had been ready to head down to the cafeteria, when a body was rolled in. She signed for it and sighed, yes she was definitely back to work.

Molly put on gloves ready to get back into the flow of working on post mortems with this new body when Lestrade and Donovan strolled in behind it. Like faint echoes of her past life. Molly’s heart gave a noticeable lurch inside her chest. She should have anticipated that.

“Molly!” Donovan shouted coming over to hug the woman. Donovan’s surprised hug left Molly aghast, with no idea why the woman was so glad to see her. They never even talked unless it was about a case.

Though Molly had no idea what Donovan had to deal with working alongside a very grumpy Detective Inspector and his morose attitude.

There was only one word to describe the air between her boss and the pathologist. Awkward. The air crackled with the electricity of unsaid words, jumping from the roofs of the couple’s mouth and off the tip of their tongues before they died in the air that thickened between the two parents and lovers. A blush fanned across Molly’s cheeks, while Lestrade’s face shadowed with unspoken emotions. He knew so little of what went on in Molly’s flat anymore, when his world was practically all encompassing it. She hadn’t even let him know that she would be back in the office, and how to react, how he should behave, how much or how little everyone around them knew. He knew taking care of Stuart was everything to Molly now as a new mother, but certainly as father of their son he warranted just a little bit of consideration.

“Molly I didn’t know you were back at work.” Greg started, his surprise at seeing her allowing him to be charitable enough to break the tension, despite his hurt feelings at being omitted from her plans. Neither one knew how to proceed, there were very few people that knew about their having a child together since Molly had kept it secret. Would she want to keep it that way? Lestrade had no idea.

“Yes I- uh- came back today. After my sabbatical.” Molly smiled politely, using the excuse for why she was away for Donovan’s benefit. Molly eying the sargent clued Lestrade in enough to pick up on her cue and remain silent about Stuart for now. Still hiding then, only Greg didn’t know if it was for his sake or her own. She wouldn’t have to explain herself to the world, and why she kept Greg at a distance, if no one knew that she was a new mother.

“Glad to hear it!” Donovan encouraged with an over-friendly smile.

“Didn’t mean to barge in on your work.” Greg blushed rubbing at the back of his head. The other doctor that they had working in Molly’s place- Patil, was it?- had already botched two autopsies. Forcing Sherlock and the Yard to put together other evidence when some of the most convincing evidence came from both of them. The Chief Inspector had gone round the bend and sent them in here today to throw some muscle around. He would be glad to report to the Chief that Molly was back at work. It pleased him greatly as well. “I just wanted a word with the other doctor if he was going to work on the body today.” Greg explained.

“Really?” Molly asked with a questioning brow. That wasn’t something Greg would ever do.

“Oh yeah, that Patil he was absolute rubbish. Botched two of our cases.” Donovan explained, with an awkward smiling nod. They didn‘t want to gossip about how the other doctors had performed in her absence. But really, if she had been here that wouldn’t have been necessary. Where ever Molly had gone, Donovan had hoped it was worth it. Especially with how upset the boss had been while she was away. Not to mention how awkward and upset he seemed to be at that moment.

Molly winced, knowing Patil was probably behind all of the mess around the morgue and in her office, as well. He was really a shite pathologist, wanted to be a surgeon but didn’t make the cut. Now her department had been paying for it in her absence. “Sorry about that, I’m back now so don’t worry it won’t be happening again.” Molly smiled confidently. The only thing Patil had to worry about now was signing for bodies during the night for her to take care of in the morning. Molly determined she would never leave the morgue for any lengthy period of time ever again.

“Excellent!” Donovan nodded, glad to hear Molly would be a permanent fixture again. She somehow made these morgue visits more tolerable. Donovan excused herself to go get coffee, leaving her boss alone with his lady for a moment. There seemed to be some tension between the two. She only hoped her divorcing herself from the room would help.

Molly went to walk towards the body that needed to be worked on and stumbled, feeling suddenly light headed. Huh. She looked to the clock on the wall as it showed the time was well passed two in the afternoon. It was definitely later than she had anticipated for her to be grabbing some lunch. Normally, she would have had to eat well before now if she were at home so that Stuart would be fed.

Once Donovan was out of the room, Greg noticed Molly looked a little pale, then stumbled holding onto the table in front of her.

“You alright, Molls?” Greg asked coming to her side, laying a warm, sturdy hand on her shoulder. He tried his best not to move his hand further up to her neck, or even more painfully forward, to her face. It took everything in him, when they met like this, for his body not to just reach out on instinct to embrace her the way he wanted to, the way he was dying to do.

“Yeah, just was so busy I skipped lunch. Not used to that anymore.” Molly laughed sitting down on a nearby stool, too weak to obviously go down to cafeteria herself. And quite honestly, Greg wouldn‘t hear of it. He told Molly in his firm copper voice to wait where she was, the authoritative voice that left her all shivery and brooked no refusals, the voice he had used during sex on more than once occasion to send her keening, and wordlessly went to the cafeteria to retrieve Molly some food.

Molly waited patiently until Greg returned with a sandwich, some chips, and a tea. Molly took them, grateful but embarrassed that it was necessary for Greg to do so. When she thanked him and apologized in the same breath, Greg merely shrugged it off but admonished that she should take better care, if not for herself then for Stuart. If she didn’t eat, she couldn’t feed him properly. Molly knew he was just being a concerned father, but heeding advice like that would get old quickly. It annoyed her that he thought she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself, she just got wrapped up in her work that’s all. Molly nodded with a stiff, polite smile and was glad for the distraction of eating. She ate her angry words with a bite of her sandwich, drowning the negative feelings in her gut with a strong sip of tea.

Greg stood around in the room awkwardly waiting until Molly was done. Everything around them spoke of fond memories when he used to kiss her. Sometimes he would kiss her just to see what would make her blush, other times to see what it would take to make the dirtiest thoughts appear on her face. Molly was never a person that was able to hide what she was thinking.

Just as Molly had remembered the day she found out she had been expecting, Greg remembered that night when he had practically clawed his way over here after coming too close to a bullet, and he had decided that night there would be no other woman for him as he made Molly come until he was drunk from the taste of her honey. It had been worth it as they cried and confessed their love for each other. He had never been so open and vulnerable with any woman before but none of those women, not even his ex-wife, could compare to how he felt about Molly. Now Greg wished he could rewind the clock so that they were back in Hastings, the bringing of food for her felt familiar enough. Providing Molly with any kind of sustenance poked at something comfortable within Greg, which spoke of home and the love for Molly that lied in wait. But now Molly and he were awkward, and the ocean of air between more awkward still and that was what hurt the most. There should never be this awkward air between them, as if they were strangers meeting for the first time. Moments like this cut at his heart like a knife. He didn’t know how heal the breach.

Molly put her tea aside and stood again feeling much better for having eaten. “You know Greg if you come back later with Sherlock and John I should be done with the autopsy then.“ Molly smiled, not liking it when police from the Yard hovered in her morgue to watch her every movement, especially if said Yarder was Lestrade. Greg nodded saying he’d be back in an hour and went to the cafeteria to retrieve Donovan. Molly sighed in relief, as the tension that had filled the room left when Greg did. It had been awkward, but now she dug into her work. Work was easy. She could make an effort on trying to maintain her focus on that instead of reading too much into the lunch she let Greg provide for her and how welcomingly familiar it felt for him to do it.

 

\----…----…----…----

 

Precisely an hour later as promised, Greg returned with Sherlock and John sans Donovan, Molly was just finished with the autopsy as promised and was in the process of looking at test results of the blood belonging to said autopsied body. Sherlock conferred with her over the results the machine had given them, fascinating the consulting detective, he took a smear of the blood for his own examination under a microscope in the lab, and allowed Molly to share her hypothesis with him. He agreed she most probably would be entirely right, as Molly usually was, which was why she so very much counted. With nothing else to do as Sherlock poked at the body and did his own investigative look into the evidence Molly had uncovered, Molly stood before Greg wondering what kind of conversation would be proper to float into the tense space between herself and the father of her child.

“You know if you’d like I could come over tonight, to help feed and put Stuart to bed. If you’d like…“ Greg finished lamely. It was her first day back at work, after having Stuart, he guessed quite rightly that she would be more than just a little tired. She was definitely exhausted. He had made the decision to do so in the car on his way to get Sherlock, and had left Donovan so that he would be free to ask. No one at the Yard knew about his new son, and that’s how he’d like to keep things until they were steadier with Molly. Sherlock had confirmed she’d be receptive to the idea before they went inside the hospital.

“Alright.“ Molly agreed, but if Greg could tell by the pinch of her brow by her nose, Molly wouldn’t discourage him but didn’t really look in favor of it either. So it was begrudging receptivity. Not exactly the reaction Greg had wanted from her, but for now he was a desperate man and he’d take it. She clearly didn’t want him hanging around the flat so that their emotions could become entangled again. Sure things were awkward between them but he didn’t really care about what pain he felt being in her presence, and he would sacrifice that pain if he could see Stuart. His son was growing more and more every day, and right now he was missing almost all of it. She didn’t understand as readily as Greg did, children were only this little once and then never again.

“You know it’s lovely to have things back to normal! Especially the sexual tension floating between you two! Just wonderful.” Sherlock announced into the room with a wide, glad smile, dimples showing themselves to prove the smile to be genuine, breaking the conversation between the two parents. John put his head into his palm, he had been politely trying to listen in but pretend not to notice anything. “Oh and Molly!“ Sherlock walked over, now that he had completed his cursory investigations, gathering what evidence he had needed, and produced a list of body parts he was in need of for his back log of experiments. “If you have the time, I’m a desperate man and these experiments won’t supply themselves. Come along, John!“ Sherlock called, kissing Molly goodbye on her cheek, then sweeping out of the room. John apologized for Sherlock as he passed awkwardly between Molly and Lestrade, muttering something about his best friend being a completely tactless dunderhead, he kissed Molly on the opposite cheek and followed in the consulting detective’s wake. They were going to need to have a discussion about social niceties again.

Lestrade suddenly found himself alone in the morgue with Molly and with no excuse to stay, like kissing her and the thought of currently not being able to do that burned a pit in his stomach. With a grimace, he told Molly to text him when she got home and that he would see her at her flat. Molly merely smiled and watched the detective inspector walk out of the morgue, the fluttery feelings in her stomach leaving with him.

 

\----…----…----…----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was probably found to be a tad emotional. Thank you all for staying on this ride with me thus far and as we regrettably start on the way home towards the ending. I had no idea I was so capable of such angst! And that you all like it!!!!?!
> 
> Let me know what you're thinking...
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	14. Pub Deductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade may be out on a limb when it comes to his feelings, but he's certainly not alone. What do his friends have to reveal about Molly's past? How much about Molly doesn't Lestrade know? 
> 
> Is it possible for four men to come to a solution in order to heal the heart of a woman?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a short one, so I decided to post it anyway instead of holding out on you guys until the weekend. 
> 
> I always think drunk Lestrade is adorable. Don't worry that smut is still there, lurking in the background. Soon. I promise. Soon.
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _Five Weeks Old_ ]

\----…----…----…----

Sherlock had been lucky enough to finish the case within the week. He had mistakenly labeled the case a six, which barely warranted his attention but wanted to be back at the morgue, and it had actually been an eight. It had given him enough thrill and excitement for John to be able to encourage him to be here in this smoke and sweat choked room tonight. Pub nights were usually John’s way of escaping Sherlock, and baby duty for the night but John had cited that they would need his help deciphering Molly’s actions. While feelings and sentiment weren’t his area, he was very good with deducing them and deducing what little Molly showed to others of them. So now he found himself on a post case endorphin high, staring down into a wobbling pint of brew while John and Lestrade mumbled about the rugby game on the TV. 

Apparently, Sherlock curled his lip appraising the drunkenness of their friend and Detective Inspector, Lestrade was already on his way to being drunk again but not like he had been before, less this time. Now he seemed to have given up, or the thought of being father while in a drunken binge didn’t have its appeal. Just like being high on his seven percent solution was an impossible thought while he looked after Imogen. Sherlock could imagine the feeling would only be magnified if he had been the baby girl’s father. 

Apparently, when Greg had gone home to look after Stuart for Molly he had been successful but she had yet to ask for a repeat performance. John couldn’t explain it, neither could Sherlock, and Lestrade was aching to know what had gone wrong. Why did she continually push him away? No man at the pub table currently knew the answer. So here they were, making a drunken effort to put their heads together.

John had known that there was only one person missing who knew all the answers. Greg was unwitting that his best friend had extended the invitation tonight, to someone he had sworn never to talk to again.

John winced at Greg’s face when he noticed Stamford stroll in. He stopped at the bar to order himself a pint while John struggled to come up with an excuse. John came clean and explained it was Stamford that called for the pub night, and on a non-football night, but on a rugby night that was usually reserved for John and himself alone. Greg made an attempt at not feeling the betrayal brewing in his chest as Stamford sat down next to him across from Sherlock. Sherlock was just as reserved, knowing it was Stamford that had helped Molly and her little escape act to Hastings. The only saving grace is that Molly had complied without pause when Sherlock had asked her to do the same, knowing what it was like being on the receiving end of that was a bitter pill to swallow. But he understood that the sentiment that drove Molly to help him were probably what forced Stamford to help Molly. 

“Wotcher, Mike!” John smiled to his friend, attempting to keep things civil while trying to cut through the tense air at the table. 

“Stamford.” Sherlock nodded curtly, taking a regrettable sip from the foamy beer of his pint. He would have rather had a whiskey, but pub nights were for beer. If the men had shots of whiskey later he’d get one.

Greg nodded to Stamford wordlessly, his back ramrod straight. What in the bleeding hell was John thinking, inviting Stamford and Sherlock here? He had hoped for a relaxing night getting pissed and watching rugby with John. Not being pissed both physically and emotionally, which he was well on his way to being as he emptied his pint. Greg was tense as he rose without a word and walked to the bar for another pint. He was decidedly not drunk enough for any of this. 

Several pints drunk in tense silence later, more drunk by Lestrade than anyone else at the table, Stamford finally was drunk enough to say the words he had been meaning to say to Lestrade all along. “I’m sorry I kept it from you, mate.” Stamford tried, struggling his best to look sincere in his growing drunkenness. 

“Yeah well ss-oh much for pints between friendsss, eh?“ Lestrade said bitterly drinking from his fifth pint. He was going to cut himself off at four, but one more wouldn’t really hurt and it would dull the hurt of his anger so that he wouldn’t feel the temptation to punch Stamford’s charitable niceness in the face. 

“Look I know you don’t want to hear this but she didn’t want me to tell anyone, I don’t know how any of you found out in the first place.” Stamford really hadn’t understood that part, and it had worried him while Molly was gone that she would be angry at him that they had known. When she came back to the morgue, all smiles, he had welcomed it and didn’t ask any questions. 

“My brother Mycroft. Can’t keep anything from him and he likes to go against the wishes of people when he thinks it’s in their best interest.” Sherlock explained smoothly, speaking from experience. “Annoying habit of his.” John nodded to his best friend in understanding. 

“Lucky for that ponce or I wouldn’t have known at all. That I h-had a sson!“ Lestrade tried not to drunkenly cry but thinking of Stuart always made his heart sore. He wiped at bitter tears that blurred his vision and the men at the table pretended not to notice as all good men do when their friends are hurting. “Thanks to you,” Lestrade growled to the man sitting next to him. John kept a strong hand on Greg’s shoulder, to keep him from throwing punches he could see brewing in Lestrade’s stiffening muscles.

“Molly put her trust in me, asked me to keep her secret. It wasn’t my secret to tell. I was only thinking about how to help Molly at the time.” Stamford tried to get them all to see. “It’s no less than she did for Sherlock, than we would do for him or Molly if they asked us.” The three men nodded at that. That Lestrade could understand, as the tension inside him slowly uncoiled. If Molly told him something in secret he would have taken it to his grave, no amount of torture could have pried it from him. 

“Why though? Why couldn’t she have just told me? I love her, and I know she loves me, but she doesn’t trust me.” Greg agonized into his pint, pulling from it. 

Stamford shook his head at the mess Molly had made of his friend. She didn’t know what she was doing to the people around her trying to keep her heart safe. “She doesn’t want to get hurt.” Stamford tried to explain. 

“I would never hurt her!” Greg slurred angrily. Everyone used that same excuse, even she did. Why did everyone think this of him? 

Stamford tried again. “No mate, listen, it’s not you-” 

“Sure as ‘ell soundssss like it t’me!” Greg interrupted, he was tired of people thinking his love for her was somehow mediocre. It didn’t feel that way to him at all, it thundered through him constantly, and with no release. He wasn’t allowed to love her, it was like some strange form of torture.

“Let him finish Greg.” John warned seriously. Even in his drunken anger, Greg would have to pay attention to the information Stamford had into the strange world of Molly Hooper. It was worth a listen if Greg could stop acting like a pissed tosser for two seconds. Greg snapped his jaw shut audibly, and ground his jaw against the brewing anger in his chest. 

Stamford nodded his thanks to John and continued. “I know you love Molly - and you’re one of the first guys I’ve met that I would actually deem worthy to be with her and I‘ve never met any of her men except for that Jim from IT and Tom - but you have to understand she hasn’t had a lot of luck in life. Anyone she’s ever cared about has left. Her mother died when Molly was a little girl, her father died while she was at uni, her elder brother moved to Canada as soon as he was able and barely talks to her or sends her cards, and she has a couple of cousins scattered around the UK. Other than that? I’ve been the only constant in her life, as her mentor.” Stamford takes a bitter sip from his own pint, not liking that he had to tell them all he knew about Molly.

“How issss any of this smy fault?” Lestrade not seeing how all of this involved his love of her.

“It’s not but since everyone she ever loved, either left or died, she plays things close to the chest. Doesn’t want to take any risks when it comes to the people she loves, that’s one of the reasons she’s so loyal. She’d never do anything to jeopardize anything she loves.“ 

“Oh yeh, she wassss loyal to me a’right, if she’sss sssso bleedin’ loyal then why did sssshe leave me?“ Lestrade drunkenly interrogated Stamford venomously, with all the anger he had kept pent up for Molly. 

“She wasn’t running away from you, she was running away from the possibility of losing you. She didn’t want to see your reaction when you learned she was pregnant with your son.“ Stamford tried to get the man to see. 

“Yeh cuz of sum ssssstupid thing I sssaid while half-asleep, I know ssshe already told me ‘bout tha.“ Lestrade mocked bitterly. This was well covered territory, he didn’t need it repeated. 

“That may have been the reasoning behind it, but really she hadn’t planned on you finding out. She was just going to I don’t know hide Stuart or send him to someone else’s place when you came by and you wouldn’t have been the wiser.“ Stamford shook his head thinking how foolish Molly had been when this all started. “Until she could find a way to tell you. I tried everything to get her not to do it, but she put up walls and shut everything else out except for the fear of you finding out.“ 

“Why couldn’t sshe juss’ trust me?!“ Lestrade angrily slammed his pint down on the table, sloshing beer everywhere. John and Sherlock cleaned it up around him without a word and checked to make sure they weren’t being too rowdy. Everyone, even the bartender was paying attention to the cluster of men on the screens around the pub. 

“She does!“ Sherlock tried to speak up, but so far everything Stamford had said he had already deduced. 

Molly was hiding to escape the pain of life she had already felt before, just like Sherlock. Like himself, she’d rather be alone and miserable without the threat of getting hurt, than grabbing at her happiness and the risk that it might not work out. 

“And she did.“ Stamford continued. “But the threat of the pain of losing you outweighed the delicate balance of the trust she has in you. She’d rather be a single mother than entertain the possibility she could be happy. She knows what its like to be alone, only relying on herself. She doesn’t know what its like to be happy.“ That took Lestrade by surprise, wrenching something deep in his gut. He wanted nothing else but for her to be happy, but she would rather deny herself that possibility to protect herself from the threat of losing that happiness. That was a dangerous and stupid thing to do. Often it left a person miserable and alone, he knew. He had tried to play that game, not thinking twice at the loneliness that had eaten away at him for a long time, but not for long once Molly became a possibility. Being with Molly all those months ago had been the first time in a long time that Greg had thought that maybe happiness wasn’t unattainable to him. Now though he wasn’t sure, he had been wrong before. The empty feeling in his chest next to his poor, wretched heart sure as hell wasn’t what he would call happiness.

“Ay can’t believe I never knew that ‘bout ‘er.” Lestrade uttered suddenly, realizing how little of Molly he had actually known about, even though he slept with her, held her while she slept beside him. “I guess ssshe didn’t trust me that much really.” Lestrade mumbled morosely. 

“Oh do be reasonable, Gavin!” Sherlock growled, tired of the man’s lament. If he did something a little more practical about this, the man would have fixed this already. 

“Oi! I told you to be nice!” John warned. 

“I know but this pathetic display is just… Idiotic!” Sherlock groaned, struggling to come up with a better adjective. They could all sit there talking about it or they could actually come up with a way to help the man.

“My name isss Greg you tosspot.” Greg laughed self-deprecatingly, not caring that Sherlock got his name wrong, again.

Sherlock’s face softened at that. “She trusts you, but you know Molly doesn’t like to be a burden to anyone.” He deduced. It really wasn’t that hard of a deduction, it was more of a truth really. Something they all knew to be true about Molly. The last thing she would do would be to burden Greg with all of the complicated feelings surrounding her life and who she was, she would just love Greg and accept his naïve love in return. Keep him the dark that way they could both always be happy. Now though, now Greg saw everything about Molly clear as day, or about as clear as day could get when drunk. And he loved her all the more for it. 

They were all silent for a while, letting Greg chew over what he had found out. How little he had known Molly. But also about how much better he knew her now and what that meant for how he would proceed.

“Wot am I gon’ to do?” Greg questioned his friends looking for help, but seeing their faces he knew he’d find none. 

“I dunno mate, I’ve been married for ten years and have two girls and not even I know how to fix this. You’re just going to have to be there. A lot.” Stamford encouraged. 

“Yes, and do all you can to help with Stuart.” Sherlock concurred. He knew all Molly needed to do was see Stuart and Greg together asleep and that would help. It would have to work. There was nothing else for it. John grimaced, not feeling apt to give any advice. He knew how Molly felt, but she just wouldn’t tell his best friend, there was little Greg to do. Just like he had decided how loving Mary was worth the secrets she kept, Greg had to decide what to do about Molly himself. No one would know how to win Molly back except Greg. 

The men around the table confirmed in the plan of Greg getting Molly back. They all clinked their pints in agreement. Without Greg and Molly together, nothing was really same.

\----…----…----…----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor guys, they don't know what to do. Does anyone? This one is all on Molly. Really. Though Lestrade's bad temper is very unhelpful. Glad to have worked Stamford's and Lestrade's point of views into this a little bit here.
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	15. Agony & Normality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's one more person we haven't heard from in this story... the other part of Greg's life. 
> 
> What will his ex-wife say about Greg having another child?
> 
> What will Molly say when she sees them together?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here for your Sunday night enjoyment, sorry this didn't get on sooner, was recovering from a stomach ache the night before and stuff. 
> 
> So here it is, hope you like this! Just five more chapters and the epilogue.
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _Three Months Old_ ]

\----…----…----…----

There was still one more person Greg could reach out to for advice. And he was desperate man to resort to having to ask _her_ for it. Veronica Lestrade sat across from her ex-husband, painting her lips, the way Greg had once found attractive but now just annoyed him as he knew she did it purely for show. Just as the bleached blonde hair, perfectly quaffed and the outfit she wore was fitted just so. Everything about his ex-wife was purely show, unlike Molly who didn’t have anything artifice about her and was as deep as the woman before him was vain. 

It had been a last minute plea, an act of desperation for what he didn’t know how to do. That wasn’t really what found Greg sitting across, vastly uncomfortable, from his ex-wife. She had said they needed to have what she fondly termed a “meeting,” which translated to his ex-wife enumerating on his many failures as father to their children. Matthew was really getting out of hand, struggling with being a rebellious teenager and his mother was struggling with how to control him. Greg supposed she blamed that on him as well as everything else between them. Greg was a rebel in his youth, the spirit that had swept Veronica off her feet, one of the original punks. He still had several deep semi-permanent scars from back then to prove it. He had been all anarchy and leather. That was what had attracted her to him in the first place. She tamed him into settling down into pretending to be a responsible adult, and she gave him two children. It had been a fair trade. There had been just enough danger in being a copper to suit his rebellious nature, and he knew how the seedy criminal thought, and that made him a good one. Good enough to be a good provider and role model for his children, despite the recalcitrant past. Emma also asked about him constantly, was really her Papa’s girl and was starting to resent her mother for keeping her so far away from him. That, Greg couldn’t have been anything less than smug about, since it was his ex-wife’s fault for keeping him apart from his kids.

Once they moved beyond his failings, he casually worked the conversation to slide in the fact that he needed her advice. Asking in such a way that didn’t entirely wound his manly pride in the face of Veronica. His ex-wife had always said he was lacking when it came to the women in his life. Really she had shouted his failings from the rooftops before their divorce. Maybe she had some insight into how to help him. That had been his hope as he suggested dinner instead of just getting coffees and fiddling with an empty coffee cup for three hours while she berated him. A decent meal would take the sting out of her venom.

They actually had gotten along very well, which would always be a success to Greg in allowing him to see his kids more regularly. Sometimes if he defended himself, or angered her to the point of spitefulness, she would keep the kids away from him on purpose. He had been self-deprecating enough about his failings as a father and his own rebellious streak his son had inherited that his ex-wife was forgiving, and as they were speaking of what he could do about Molly, she had told him about his value. She had been in the middle of praising his good as a husband and father that she hadn’t seen - or hadn’t needed even though he had been willing to give it - when he looked up and saw Molly herself looking at him in shock through the pane glass of the restaurant. He had promptly excused himself to go after her, at his ex-wife’s encouragement. 

He could only imagine what Molly was thinking of him, he assumed the worst.

\----…----…----…----

Molly spent the past month and a half struggling to balance work down at the morgue and being a good mother to Stuart. Sometimes she would be forced to leave for the morgue early in the morning before Stuart would be up only to come home to him already asleep after supper. The struggles of the working single mother were very real to Molly. She needed to work to support her child, but the more she worked to provide the less Stuart would see of her and know his mother’s love. Greta wouldn’t say a word but would dutifully stay and only leave upon Molly’s return. For which Molly would forever be grateful for her help. Finding people to cover her happenstance night shifts was the worst part, she worked them as much as she was able to but sometimes it just wasn’t possible. When she would finally secure a babysitter willing to work practically overnight, she could only get a baby sitter to stay until her shift ended so Stuart would be alone until she returned which she didn‘t like. On those few occasions Molly would run into Sherlock soothing a Stuart that woke up thinking himself in the flat alone. Mycroft had undoubtedly told Sherlock of Stuart’s being alone and the consulting detective put aside his duties towards the Watsons to take care of his duty to Molly. Molly was glad that she had a sociopath for a friend, even though that meant a fair few of his enemies were her enemies as well. 

The only regret Molly had most was missing the way Stuart was growing. She missed his first smiles, and the first time he was able to support himself, wiggling on the floor to learn how to eventually crawl. There were so many little things she was missing out on that as a mother were really killing her inside. She hoped one day when he turned out to be a capable, well-rounded adult that it would be worth it.

The weekend was her only reprieve to go shopping and do things with Stuart. Saturdays she used for shopping until the evenings that started Greta’s day off and Sundays Molly spent all day with Stuart. Unfortunately Molly was still getting used to the schedule Greta had gotten Stuart on, not one she had put him on herself. That was the most confusing part, feeling like she wasn’t as in charge of the raising of her own son as she should have been. 

These were her most frustratingly, self-flagellating thoughts as she carried her heavy purchases from her local Tesco’s to her flat. She made this trip regularly. She used the walk to people watch and look longingly into the restaurants and cafés, wishing for the same time last year when she had done the same things with Greg. 

Passing a restaurant, she was caught by Lestrade’s person sitting in across from a very attractive, leggy blonde woman that looked to be about his age. They had a familiarity between the two of them that was heartbreaking. Molly couldn’t stop herself from looking into the window and staring. She had always known that seeing Greg with someone else was a possibility, she had expected it, promised that she would understand. But saying she would understand and rationalizing the hurt she felt in that moment, were apparently two very different things. In the middle of her staring, she hadn’t realized that those vivid, deep brown eyes she had adored and loved so much were staring back at her. Molly reared back away from the window almost as if she were burnt by what she saw. She quickly made to leave trying her best to get to the end of the block before he had a chance to catch up with her, but the heavy groceries slowed her down.

“Molly!!” She cringed hearing Greg call out from down the block. She stopped and turned around, hoping he might have something to ask about Stuart. He came over as often as he could but work had been rather busy of late, and that meant he was even busier than she. When Greg caught up, she noted how happy he was to have seen her. “Wotcher, glad you waited for me. I’m sorry… about what you saw in there.” Greg apologized between breaths.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Greg. I told you it was okay if you saw other people.” Molly smiled, trying to be polite but failing at the realization that it was too late. Too late for them, too late for the love that beat inside her heart, and too late to save the relationship that they had. She knew she pushed and pushed and pushed and drove the love she felt and knew Greg had returned once right off a cliff. Now it was a burning tangle of hot iron in her heart that was a gorge. The edge of her vision brimmed with tears.

“Molly, I’m not-” 

“It’s alright!” Molly smiled, trying not to notice that Greg became increasingly clouded in her vision. If she didn’t press on, she would soon become unmade. “Well I’m glad to see you’re doing well but I have to get back to our son.” She tried not say this with a bitter tone, but everything in her rebelled against the idea that Greg tried to convince her that he had been waiting for her. Liar. The word beat against the walls of her head. 

“Molly-“ Greg begged trying to explain himself. There was nothing more to say. 

“Well I really should be going. Bye!“ Molly turned and continued her walk back to her flat, not paying attention to the tears that fell down her cheeks. She thought it strange how much she had cried before having Stuart and when Greg had left Hastings. Now she had needed that moment to remind herself to cry for what was lost to her now. 

Greg bit back the anger that unfurled itself and brewed inside his chest, if only Molly had let him explain. She didn’t know that the woman he had been sitting across from was his ex-wife.

\----…----…----…----

When he came back to the table, Veronica gave him a hopeful expression. At his sad face, her shoulders fell sympathetically. It certainly didn’t look good, even if he was sitting across from his ex-wife and neither party would touch the other again with a ten-foot pole. She had never met Molly. But she knew a good match for her ex when she saw it. And she was grown-up enough to admit it to her ex-husband.

She had noticed however that same expression on his face when she had first had Matthew. A tender little happy smile, that he saved for when they reminisced about their children when they had been babies. He was absolutely soppy for infants, toddlers, and puppies, anything baby sized. She knew that look well. When she questioned him, Lestrade sheepishly produced his phone, showing his ex-wife the picture of himself and Stuart when he was first born on the home screen. 

“Greg!” Veronica gasped with a smile. He was such an adorable baby, and looked almost like Matthew when he was born except the eyes, which she guessed were Molly’s. 

“That’s Stuart. Stuart Hooper Lestrade.“ He was a very proud father, though he hadn‘t told many about his son. “I’ve been meaning to tell you about him. My boy. My other boy.” Lestrade corrected himself looking sheepishly to his ex-wife, ears burning. “I don’t know how to tell the kids, that they have a new baby brother. I was hoping you might know how to do that.” His ex-wife nodded and they planned to tell the kids together. But only once Lestrade knew for sure whether or not he and Molly would be together. She didn’t want them to think their father would have a child with a woman he wasn’t with unless things between him and Molly absolutely didn’t work out. Even if he loved Molly, she wouldn’t allow their children to think less of their father. 

Though she did little to hide from them what she thought of their father. 

The last thing Greg wanted was his own children thinking as bad of himself as Molly seemed to now. The former couple finished their meal and agreed he’d have a chat with Matthew, in the midst of all this other chaos. He’d let his fathering of his other two children slip, and regretted that a great deal. Greg beat himself up for that and so many more things, though the better part of his failings pointed in Molly’s direction.

\----…----…----…----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will get interesting in the next few chapters... I hope... Dunno what you guys will think. 
> 
> Here's hoping you'll like it. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	16. Little DIsasters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly tries to resist needing Greg but things keep on happening to pull them back together. 
> 
> If only she didn't need him so badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abject pleas and apologies for not posting these past two weeks, I'm going to make up for it by posting the chapters you've been waiting for. 
> 
> So hang on!!! It's going to get a little bumpy but you'll definitely enjoy the next chapter I think, so forgive me for this. Things always have to get worse before they better. Some people wouldn't think so but sometimes it can be true.
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _Three and a Half Months Old_ ]

\----…----…----…----

Molly groaned as she woke up to the sun in her eyes, thanking providence that it was the weekend, and not a work day. Molly was absolutely exhausted. No, exhausted didn’t cover it. She was dead. It was official, she could see the headlines now. Mother of Stuart, three month old baby, worked herself to the bone and died of exhaustion. Belonging to a long liege of sainted mothers who had given the last of themselves in the name of their children. It didn’t help that now she was tormented by nightly visions of Greg wrapped around leggy blondes and salaciously entwined as Molly looked on, laughing when Molly would cry out in protest. Too late. Greg would smirk. He would turn away from her, Molly running after him to try and get him to turn back and look at her. Then he would disappear completely and Molly would wake up, sweating with tears streaking her cheeks. And that reoccurring one was one of the milder one’s. Now she welcomed when Stuart would wake her up from these tormented dreams with his miserable fussing. 

She had no idea, that this was what parents felt when they took care of a new infant. The haunted look in their eyes as their children begged for attention was merely one of exhaustion. It could be used as a form of torture, she thought. Need to get information from someone, put them in a room with a screaming inconsolable infant for a few hours and they’d tell you everything you’d want to know. Greta was a big help, as was Sherlock when he popped by, but the woman couldn’t be there for everything. 

Molly had been running on empty as Stuart had a really rough couple of nights, and had kept Molly up through the better part of it. And her worries about his well-being kept her going throughout the day while Stuart was awake. Sherlock hadn’t been able to get away to assist her, John and Mary decided to go on a little vacation away from the consulting detective more than Imogen, and he had his hands full with a case and the infant. Molly had only hoped he would leave the baby with Mrs. Hudson, rather than take Imogen on the case. It was a foolhardy wish, but one would hope. For all Molly knew, the infant was enjoying herself, investigating murders alongside her Uncle the same way her father does. 

Now though, she heard the beginnings of the cries that meant Stuart was up. 

Molly squinted against the light, regretting having to leave the warmth of the softness to be found in the cushions of her favorite couch. She had least moved from the chair in the nursery to her couch in the sitting room. Still the memories held her there instead of being allowed to sleep in her bed. Only when she wasn’t conscious enough to think about it, would she simply crash into the mattress and allow her to get a more comfortable rest. At the moment, the couch was close to the nursery and that’s all she cared about as she made her way into the room. 

Stuart hadn’t kept any food down the day before and Molly hoped the night’s rest would see him improved. But the heat in his head, and the warbling cries this morning told her a different story. Molly was only thankful that everything else about him was normal. But Molly didn’t want to take chances with her son’s health. But knowing she wanted to take him to the hospital left her no choice but to call Greg. He would want to know. Molly pulled out her phone and dialed. He picked up on the second ring. 

“ _Hey Molls, a little busy, is everything alright?_ ” Molly didn’t want to confess that she thought Greg’s authoritative voice to be quite soothing as she currently faced a possible crisis. 

“I’m sorry to trouble you Greg… but-” Molly couldn’t stifle the cry she let pop from her mouth into the speaker of the phone. She had wanted to remain calm, but the worries and exhaustion overtook her. He was struggling to remain stoic through all of it.

“ _Molly, what’s wrong?_ ” Greg wasted no preamble in learning what troubled Molly enough to reach out to him. Something must be wrong. 

“It’s Stuart. He-he’s sick. Or something. He’s not keeping anything down, the night before last, or all day yesterday… I don’t know what to do, if it’s nothing or not.” Greg could hear the fear echo in Molly’s voice. Molly was versed enough in pediatric care to know that what Stuart was going through was not evidence of anything good. Molly explained the last few nights that Stuart had and how unwell he seemed this morning. Greg grimaced into the phone, adrenaline making the hand that rubbed his face shake. He could handle most things, was quite capable in a crisis but hated when that included someone he loved. 

“ _We’ll take him to Bart’s, Molly. I’ll come get you in ten minutes. Don’t worry, it’ll be alright._ ” Greg hung up before Molly could protest and say she would get a cab, for him to meet her there. It was too late now and she had just enough time to get some clothes on, and dress Stuart before Greg would be here. 

Ten minutes felt like an eternity, and a blink of an eye all at once. Greg was up the stairs and at her door just as Molly was opening it to see if he had arrived yet. A very sick Stuart cried in relief at seeing his father. Papa would make everything better, he was sure of it. 

Greg wordlessly took Stuart into his arms, hating to feel the heat that radiated off the lad’s brow when he kissed it. He had felt worse from his own kids when they were sick, as young children but it was much too high for an infant. He knew his boy would be resilient, all the Lestrades were, but he couldn’t help worrying. The sooner they brought Stuart to the hospital the better. 

Molly grabbed his bag she had packed, his carrier, and together they piled into Greg’s car. Greg used his flashing police lights to speed through the horrid midmorning weekend traffic and Molly did her best to keep Stuart calm during the ride. He didn’t understand why he felt so horrible and why his papa refused to take him but was clearly doing something that took his attention away from his son, while he was strapped into his carrier in the back seat. Nothing should have been more important than the time they got to spend together, especially at this moment when he needed his papa so much.

\----…----…----…----

Once they were at St. Bart’s Molly carried Stuart into the pediatric ward, and wasted no time in acquainting her colleagues and friends at the hospital with what she had been up to while in Hastings, and who she had done it with. Dr. Morris, a very confident and capable Indian woman, who married a surgeon from the hospital, went to work. She diagnosed right away that Stuart had a very mild case of the flu. Mild or no, the flu was very dangerous for infants to get. Molly had been right to bring him in before it had gotten serious. Dr. Morris had every hope that they could stabilize his fluid levels and monitor him until their poor baby boy was better. Careful observation, medicine and attention, that’s all Dr. Morris told the very worried parents that he needed. She had asked Molly and Greg to wait outside the ward until she knew exactly the severity of the case and they had him hooked up to the proper machines and intravenous fluids. Once she had Stuart comfortable and resting they could stay with their son. Dr. Morris politely suggested, in a very British way, that while he wasn’t exposed to germs on a daily basis, Molly’s work at the morgue did expose her to the germs to be found here at the hospital. It wasn’t her fault but just a regrettable side effect of needing to work while raising her son, during this delicate people of his growth. Molly knew this to be true, but she had hoped that only working in the morgue would have been enough to spare him. She had been so wrong. 

Dr. Morris left to give the parents much needed time to themselves, and went to see to her new patient. 

Greg paced the waiting room while Molly sat in absolutely tortured agony and sipped at absolutely wretched coffee. She watched Greg as he walked back and forth, like a caged elder jungle cat. A nurse called out for one of them at the desk, needing someone to fill out paperwork for Stuart’s stay. Without even looking to Molly, Greg was at the desk and filling out the papers for his son. He came back a while later, with a fresh cup of coffee for himself and for Molly. Molly took it with a soft “thanks.” He sipped at the coffee with a grimace, knee bouncing with nerves. He didn’t want to get booted out of Molly’s work for yelling at the nurses and staff, but really how long was it going to take them to let him see his son? If only he could hold the lad and make sure his boy was okay. That’s all he wanted, just a minute or two. He hoped Molly would allow him just that before politely telling him he could go back to work. 

It was all so painful for Molly. She didn’t know what was going on behind the doors that led to where they were looking after Stuart, she swore she could hear him crying. And worst of all it had been her fault and out of her own control all at once. Parents always want to protect their children to the end, but life and its dangers find their children no matter what. And Greg was here, with her, looking after their son, and taking care of things. That’s what hurt most, she couldn’t do this on her own, without him. She had lied to herself in thinking that she had called Greg just thinking that he would have wanted to know, no, she called for him because she needed him. She needed his voice, his steady presence, reassuring her, telling her what to do. She had failed so miserably in this, and needed Greg to help her back up, to pick up the pieces. She wished she could just give in, but everything they had been through held her back.

These feelings and more washed over Molly and forced her to put her head into her hands and cry under the weight of it pressing on her already burdened and overwhelmingly exhausted shoulders. How much more could one woman endure? Greg’s soothing voice, and the warm hand that rubbed at her back only made the tears come harder. Her shoulders began to shake.

“Molly, it’s alright, Stuart’s going to be fine.” Greg didn’t know if he was saying that for her benefit or for his own. This wasn’t the first time a baby had the flu and it wouldn’t be the last. Dr. Morris had seemed hopeful. The fluids and medicine they would give him would stabilize him and make him well again, then all would be well. 

“I know, that’s not why I’m crying.” Molly whimpered into her hands, muffling what she was saying. It felt selfish but she was crying for how she let her son down, not for her son.

“Then why-” Greg began to question. Lately, he didn’t make assumptions about what Molly was thinking or feeling anymore, that’s usually where he got into trouble. 

“Because I’m a failure. I’m a horrible mother. I can’t do this Greg. At the first sign of something wrong, I came running for you. I can’t do this on my own.” Molly whimpered, not shirking away from Greg when he knelt in front of her and took her hands into his. His warm hands were soothing even if she wouldn’t admit it. She saw the look he was giving her and remember herself, pulling her hands away to wipe at her face. She had wanted so badly to be able to be independent to rely on no one else but herself. But she couldn’t do it. All around her, there were people propping her up. Despite her protests, despite her pride. Stamford, Mycroft, Sherlock, Greta, Mary, John… especially Greg. If she called, he would come. 

“Hey…” Greg lifted her chin so that Molly would look in his eyes, and cradled her face tenderly in his hands. It was an intimate gesture, more than he had been allowed but right now Molly found it comforting. “You’re a wonderful mother, Molly. The best. Babies get sick, kids break bones, it happens. You can’t blame yourself for this.” Greg asserted with an angry grumble. He could’ve exploded when he had heard Dr. Morris say those things about Molly’s job. 

“You heard Dr. Morris. My working here at the hospital caused this to happen.” Molly very clearly blamed herself for getting Stuart ill. She could control a lot of things about Stuart’s life, but the universe, even Stuart’s little one, was utterly out of her control.

“No! Don’t you believe that, Molls. You’re supporting our son by doing the work you love to do. Doing it all without any help from me. From anyone, other than Greta. You have a lot to be proud of, and I’m proud of you, Molly.” Greg smiled. He wasn’t lying, he worried about how they were faring daily. Wondering why he wasn’t needed, and day by day, week by week, Molly was doing better than some mothers could manage with helpful husbands as first time parents. Molly should have been proud of herself, but this one little slip, the one illness had her martyring herself. 

“Greg…” Molly sighed, her hand embracing the hand that covered the side of her face. Her tears halted slightly so that they swam in her eyes threatening to continue their steady fall. But as Molly looked into Greg’s eyes, she couldn’t lie that she wanted to very badly to admit that Greg cared about her. The recognition as they held each other’s gaze halted her thoughts completely. Greg leaned into close the space between them, angling for the kiss he was dying to have from her. Just one, just this once, and he would be satisfied. Well he wouldn’t, but he would try very hard to be. Molly remembered why they were here in the hospital like a snap of a whip. She couldn’t do this with him, not here, not now. It was all too much. She felt suffocated. “I-I can’t do this…” Molly got up pushing passed the Detective Inspector to ask the front desk if they could see their son yet. 

“Molls-” Greg was cut off when they both ran into the nurse that had been sent to fetch them. She confirmed that Stuart was now fast asleep and would be for the next few hours, but they were allowed to stay in his room alongside him. Both parents agreed to want to do just that. The nurse took them to the room where Stuart rested in a familiar hospital crib. Molly wept, hating to see him hooked up to all the tubes and machinery. She ignored the feeling of Greg’s warm hand comforting her from its place on her shoulder as they both looked down to their son. It all hurt so much, Molly could barely breathe. 

Stuart slept on, unwitting that his parents were suffering for him to be well again as he slowly began to mend. He was just happy to be sleeping.

\----…----…----…----

Over the next week, Greg and Molly barely left the room their son was in. Though Greg did become familiar with the pediatric ward as he made calls to work explaining the situation to his boss, though he asked that his boss keep this between themselves. This wasn’t something he wanted any of his subordinates to know just yet. His boss, thankfully, allowed Greg the time off, and wished his detective inspector well. 

Stuart seemed to heal almost as quickly as he became sick once he was on the mend. It had taken some very strong medicine to do it, and left his body a bit confused. Once he was able to keep a day’s worth of meals down as well as all other functions babies do, and he was deemed well enough, Dr. Morris would declare he could be sent home. She had every hope of that being very soon, within a day or two. Molly was completely wrung out from the experience. She slept almost as often as Stuart was, and when she was awake, cried over him as she held him, almost as if he were made of glass. The gentleness she had used to avoid disturbing the tubes and monitors he was hooked up to made Lestrade’s chest ache as he watched his family. She was such a wonderful mother, she really had no idea. 

Now she slept on, and Greg watched her and Stuart from where he stood in the room greedily. He didn’t know if he’d get another opportunity after this. Molly might decide to leave London for somewhere safer for Stuart. The thought of being separated from Stuart by any distance pained and angered him. But not knowing what Molly was thinking, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. He only hoped Molly wouldn’t, that she couldn’t distance herself from him, like he couldn’t. There was a reason they kept coming together like magnets he would play with as a child on his mother’s kitchen floor. They needed each other, they were meant for each other. His thoughts were disturbed as Stuart started to stir from his crib. 

Greg was at his son’s side instantly, gently lifting his son into his arms. He cooed quietly, kissing the boys now thankfully cool forehead, the fever had broken only a couple of days into the hospital visit. Now they just had to wait until his body was able to take in his regular feedings and he would be well again. Greg was already so thankful for all the improvements he saw in Stuart already. His little brown eyes sparkled once again. When Stuart fussed further, Greg began singing their favorite song, only now he was practically humming it into the soft air of the room. 

Stuart was eased back into sleep, the cries that had started in his throat died with whimpering hiccups. He gave his father a sleepy smiled and closed his eyes once again. Once Greg felt the tension leave his son’s little body, he lowered the boy lovingly down into the crib again and settled the boy under the covers, using a finger to gently kiss the boys nose. Though he had to hold back a giggle as Stuart’s nose twitched in his sleep.

Greg was unwitting that Molly had watched the exchange the entire time with a sad expression on her face. She loved everything about this man but still couldn’t believe that he wanted things like this in his life. Herself, Stuart, hospital visits, late night feedings, diaper changes, and all of this came with the added trouble of his other children. Greg wanting all of this seemed so impossible. It wasn’t right of him to fool her like this by being so wonderful. By the time Greg turned around, Molly was able to feign sleep and he was none the wiser. 

Two days later, Greg and Molly would bring Stuart home from the hospital to a welcoming, tearful Greta. The woman had worried that the baby would not come home, memories of when she was younger in Germany before the wall fell and good medicine was sometimes scarce for babies had worried her unnecessarily. Immediately the women would see to the baby, fussing over him, and Greg would see that he wasn’t needed. Before Molly could turn back to ask Greg if he would stay for dinner, the door was closing in his wake.

Molly had only wished she had acted sooner. 

\----…----…----…----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dodges books and objects flying in my general direction* Sorry!!! I know a long irksome absence and then I do that?! Forgive me for this! I just thought something needed to happen, something to wake Molly up to what was going on around her. I promise you the next few chapters as we near the end will more than make up for it! Keep reading!
> 
> Let me know what you all think!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	17. Sore Spots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg is dependable as ever when it comes to caring for his son. 
> 
> Molly tries desperately to pretend that she's unaffected by all this and her feelings for him. 
> 
> Can she resist it for much longer?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rolling right along, I told you all, I'm here right now to make up for lost time. 
> 
> I feel you all deserve a big installment for my torturing you with an unintended absence. We'll be getting to the smut next I promise!
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _Four Months Old_ ] 

\----…----…----…----

Molly groaned in frustration, throwing her phone onto her bed. Her life had been hectic for a while now. Stamford had warned her, but having a child made all of this running around and strange hours all the more difficult. She had been called in to work, a sudden night shift. A late night murder and they needed her to do the autopsy, post haste since they suspected the killing to be poison. But it wasn‘t Greg’s case or else he would have told her himself but Stamford had called. Now she had to go into work and had no one to watch Stuart. She had exhausted every other option except her last one. Greg. She had called her baby sitter but the girl hadn‘t answered, couldn’t disturb Greta since she needed Greta to look after Stuart during the day, and John and Sherlock were away on a case that took them to Germany, which meant Mary was home alone with Imogen and Molly wouldn’t give her the responsibility of looking after two babies. And she didn’t really want to leave Stuart with Mycroft, who’d just pass him off to another Nanny and a stranger at that. No, she’d have to call Greg. It was only right, his own father should look after him. Reluctantly she brought up the number and pressed send, Lestrade picked up on the second ring. 

“ _Molly. Is Stuart okay?_ “ Lestrade asked excitedly, immediately concerned for his boy. It had only been a couple weeks since their unfortunate encounter with the flu.

“Stuart’s fine, I dunno if you heard but there was a murder and they’ve… c-called me in.” Molly winced into the phone. 

“ _And you can’t find anyone else to babysit._ “ Lestrade rumbled into the phone, in complete understanding.

“Yes?“ Molly asked weakly in way of reply. 

“ _I’ll be right over._ “ Lestrade hung up without another word. Molly sighed, glad that the exchange wasn’t as painful as she thought it would be. She hadn’t even asked if he was busy. 

\----…----…----…----

Ten minutes to the second, he was there just as he promised. Molly opened the door for Greg, smiling awkwardly. “You know I didn’t even ask whether or not you were working.” Molly blushed taking his coat.

“I wasn’t- I wasn’t doing anything at all really.” Greg smiled, looking down to his feet. 

Molly sighed when he looked about ready to say something about their last encounter. She just couldn’t do it now, not when there was an autopsy she needed to do. “I should get going, got a lot of work to get done at the morgue.” Greg nodded. “There are bottles in the fridge and everything else is in the nursery. Unless you run out of something, which you shouldn’t, but if you do look in one of the closets.” Molly was rambling, and Greg was too tired to find it any less than charming. 

“I know Molly, don’t worry we’ll be fine.” Greg smiled a secret smile he hadn’t given her since she left for Hastings, a smiled that echoed of love when he let his guard down. Molly practically tripped out of her own flat in an attempt to get away from the feelings it gave her. The chilly open air of the winter night was soothing on her blush filled cheeks.

\----…----…----…----

It had been a long night, Molly had needed several cups of tea to keep herself on her feet. Exhausted didn’t really cover how she felt now. If someone pushed her backwards with just a fingertip, she’d more than likely just fall backwards and sleep for a year. Just as the sun was edging on the horizon over the Thames, Molly was unlocking the door to her flat with a sigh. Weariness had spread all the way to her bones. She wasn’t quite prepared for the sight that greeted her on the other side of the door. Lestrade was sound asleep on her couch, snoring lightly with Stuart curled up on his chest, suckling around his thumb in his sleep. The telle was flashing light on the cozy father and son, playing a rerun of _Top Gear_ , on mute. The boy probably was comforted by his father’s strong dependable heart beat just as she had been many nights herself, as the boy only slept with his thumb in his mouth when he was really deeply asleep. Molly worked hard at being absolutely silent as she took off everything except her yoga pants and the jumper she had thrown on. Molly stared at them for a minute before climbing onto the couch to lay down with her men, as much as she was loathe to admit it. She loved them both so much. 

With a deep shuddering breath Molly let herself mentally poke at the sore spots in her chest she had left dormant since getting back to London. She laid a protective hand on Stuart, as both mother and son snuggled into Lestrade’s protective form. It seemed these places deep in her chest cavity were even more sensitive since she had seen Lestrade in the restaurant not so long ago. Molly was even forced to bite back a sob as Lestrade’s arms came around her in his sleep. Molly sniffled against the tears that were forming in her vision. She wouldn’t cry now, forcibly blinking them away.

Realizing the pleasantness of the soft form in his arms Lestrade stirred, with a pleased smile that was her torture. Reminding her of so many weekends they had spent together, waking up in each other’s arms. Slowly rising from sleep, Lestrade remembered himself, clearing his throat, quietly. Molly used her last bit of energy to sit up and allowed Greg to get up and put Stuart to bed. Greg came back out shrugging on his suit jacket to leave, now that Molly was home he didn‘t need to stay, though she looked exhausted. Not so exhausted that she wouldn’t realize he was still dressed for work. She hadn’t noticed before in the awkwardness and her scattered mind as she had prepared to go to work.

“Why do you still have your work clothes on?“ Molly wondered, her brow rising in suspicion. 

“I lied a little bit, before, I uh- was at work, just getting off when you called. I had stayed late to finish a big pile of paper work.” Molly gave him an exasperated look. She hadn’t wanted to bother him. “What? You called so I came!” Lestrade thought it was so simple. 

Molly simply sighed against the knowledge. She hated to hear it. 

“Look I don’t know how many times I have to tell you but I’m going to be here for you and Stuart no matter what else is going on in my life.” He finished putting on his jacket and went about cleaning up what little mess he made despite Molly’s protest. “Donovan is working better with Sherlock and John, so I can take off like this when I need to so that I can be here for you.”

“I appreciate that Greg but I don’t want you to be able to come around here by dropping work.“ Molly pleaded for him to see reason. If he dropped everything as soon as she called his Chief Inspector would hang him. 

“Well too bad, because I don’t rightly care what happens at work if I can help here.“ Greg argued flippantly. “And its not for you I do this, its for Stuart.“ Lestrade countered. He had stopped thinking she wanted him to do this for her months ago, now he just wanted to focus on being a good father.

“Even if it is!-” Molly covered her mouth when she realized they were speaking above a whisper. Lestrade winced, looking to the direction of the nursery but Stuart hadn’t stirred. Molly began again this time in a whisper. “Even if it is, I don’t want us interrupting your life, I told you that. Come when you’re able but don’t get in trouble at work over it.“ Molly reasoned. It wouldn’t do for him to get fired. 

“You’re not interrupt-“ Greg sighed in defeat, too weary for arguing anymore so late or early really. “You know what fine. If that’s how you want it.“ Lestrade finally gave up and let himself out, he slammed the door behind him, once again not turning back when they woke Stuart up with their arguing. Molly went to her son, fighting tears. 

This was what she thought Lestrade had wanted. Why was he fighting it? And why did she feel herself almost ready to give in to it? Even with the vision of him sitting in that restaurant flashed across her memory. Would she delude herself? Could she really believe that Greg could be sincere?

She looked down to her once again sleeping boy with a soft sigh. If he loved Stuart as much as he appeared, Molly wondered how much longer she could pretend not to care. As she foolishly tried to convince herself that the detective inspector broodily driving through the streets of London didn’t have a heart that beat only for hers.

\----…----…----…----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stubborn Molly. But I believe her resolve is starting to weaken!!! 
> 
> Keep on reading, friends! Let me know what you're thinking!!! We're almost near the end!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	18. Strange Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly finally gives in and allows Greg to love her. 
> 
> But in the harsh light of the morning, she wonders if he really does...
> 
> Has Greg's love finally been pushed too far? Will he leave for good?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut here! Get your smut here! Hot off the presses! 
> 
> Just like I promised! I hope you liked it!
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _Six Months Old_ ]

\----…----…----…----

Molly wished that their fight would have deterred Greg but he kept on showing up at the flat when she least expected it. Greg was babysitting more and more. Despite Greta’s presence, he would excuse her even though Molly was sure that Greta was in her and more likely Mycroft’s employ. Over two months, he was there when she got home, even though she was well aware of how busy his schedule would be as well. Against her will, his presence allowed them to begin a small routine together, around feeding and playing with Stuart until he would get sleepy.

Then Lestrade would get up and wordlessly put the boy to bed. Only singing to the lad when Molly was showering and thought no one but Stuart would be listening. Molly made tea just outside the door to the nursery, used to taking quicker showers now, while Greg was singing to his son. The sound would always bring a smile to her face, and when he came back out there would be tea waiting in the living room. Most nights Molly wouldn’t say a thing, and neither would Greg. He would simply sit by her, trying to make her see how domestic they could be together. To show her how much he wanted this family with her. Whatever conversation they would have would be short, polite, and centered on Stuart. Eventually, Molly would turn on the telle and in the glow of it, she would relax and let herself pretend that she could have this. She would eventually fall asleep and then Greg would get up without a word and leave. Molly would wake up to an empty sitting room and wish she wasn’t alone when she woke up. 

Under his continued visits, she could take no more. Stuart was six months old and add that to the time she had already spent being pregnant and Molly was a desperate woman, starving, absolutely ravenous for the pleasure only Greg couple provide, and cracking under the pressure. She couldn’t ignore him any longer. She wondered, looking at his delicious profile in the blue light of the TV, if that had been his plan all along. Though when she finally gave in and straddled his lap, his stupefied face was evidence to the contrary. She lowered her lips to his, and he gave an exultant moan against her lips as her mouth plundered his. 

He dug his fingers into her hips trying to still the incessant movement she couldn’t stop even if she wanted to, her body was sating the thirst for the heat of his. Molly hoped when the pressure of his fingertips became harder that the bruises would show impressions of his fingerprints on her skin, like a tattoo. She knew it wasn’t possible but a girl could dream. Molly pulled back with a purr, digging her own fingertips into his shoulders, using the hold for leverage. 

“Molly, I-“ Greg groaned, feeling her heat against his quickly swelling cock. He had gone as long as she had without even wanking, waiting for her. If she didn’t stop these delicious gyrations, what he thought was finally happening between them would be over before he even got a chance to have what he wanted most. 

“Please!“ Molly cried in a whisper. “Please I need this- need you.“ Molly’s begging left him unmoored. Greg reached for the hem of the loose t-shirt that concealed Molly’s post-pregnancy body from his vision, but Molly stopped his hands, gripping his wrist with a horrified expression. The thought of him seeing the changes of her body underneath it almost killed her shivering appetites. “Please lets just do it like this, Greg. I don’t-“ 

“Molly please, I want to see you. Let me in. Let go.” It was Greg’s turn to beg with a delicious rumble that left a frisson of pleasure down her spine. Reluctantly Molly gave in to allowing him to see her body and Greg gave into his body’s hunger for her, helping her to slowly lift off the offending shirt that blocked his vision. Molly winced but noticed that Greg’s passionate hunger only deepened. He was thankful there was only knickers between himself and her, since she had showered when he had gone to put Stuart to bed. His gaze roamed greedily over her naked form, delighting that not only was Molly as beautiful as ever, but that her form seemed to have blossomed with motherhood. Molly whined with impatience, completely aching to be ravished until Greg shushed her. “You’re so beautiful, Molly. I’ve got you.“ He growled in a whisper, laving at her chest like a starving beggar while burying two of his fingers into her tight wet heat without warning. He stifled his groan, feeling how wet she already was for him, with a bite to her clavicle causing her to cry out, as he circled her clit just the way Molly liked with the rough skin of his thumb. Greg always loved how he could play her like his favorite Gibson. A couple skilled passes with his thumb was all it took as Molly let out a sudden cry. He was shocked when she quaked beneath him, purring with orgasm, her thighs shaking, and he had barely started. “Molls-?“ He tried to pull his fingers out, but was stopped when her hand came down tightly on his wrist. Her fingers leaving impressions in his skin from the insistence of her grip. There was no fucking way she was going to let him stop now. 

“Don’t stop.“ Molly demanded, her head thrown back. That was only the first of what she hoped would be many orgasms, the delicious thought made her lick her lips reflexively. Molly tried to be quiet but the pleasure was such that she could barely catch her breath, wondering if she would hyperventilate before he even got a chance to enter her. She was so sensitive and aching. If he didn’t continue she would go insane. With a twist of his wrist, he was able to plunge his fingers into her soaking, white hot heat at exactly the right spot inside her, causing her now overly sensitive body to jump under his touch deliciously. Molly laughed with joy when he continued. Greg pulled back to watch, holding her upright with a firm, well-muscled arm across her naked back. Molly rode his fingers, unable to contain the shudders of pleasure rippling through her body. He buried his fingers of the arm that supported her into her hair and watched how much pleasure he could pull from her body, again and again. That was quite honestly his favorite part. When Molly felt pleasure he could give her, it was with her whole being. It was all for him and what he could do for her. His fingers were so wet with Molly’s nectar that it was dripping down his wrist by the time he pulled away. Molly was a mess, it was glorious. 

Greg growled deep in his chest as quietly as he was able, as he devoured it. Her juices on his wrist were not enough to sate his long buried appetites, feeling the tension of the past fifteen months weigh on him, waiting for its release. He carried a whimpering, still shuddering, Molly into the bedroom, with her shaking limbs wrapped around him. He could feel her welcoming heat and had to bite his cheek to keep from taking all of her just yet. Her milky white skin quaked with pleasure at every point of contact with Greg’s tanned skin. But she knew that he was far from finished now that she was allowing Greg to have his fill, he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. 

They crashed on top of her bed and he lowered his body to cover hers - once stripped of his clothes - into her welcoming, warm embrace. He didn’t enter her though, not quite done with making her quake from pleasure and lowered his mouth to Molly’s already dripping lips. This one thing, Greg loved doing, and really excelled at, to Molly’s delight. 

He languished at her womanly altar, drinking from her. Greg teased, tormented her until he was able to wring out another climax from her body and used that moment to enter her. Greg’s groan of delight was swallowed by her kiss. It was heaven, everything he knew it was and dreamt that it could be again. Their hips met again and again in a dance that was almost violent in its passion. It had been much too long and Greg was quite shocked he had been able to last this long. He didn’t even need to touch her clit again to stimulate her pleasure, as he felt her body mounting for one last stellar orgasm from his cock alone. That he hadn’t ever been able to quite do before. This evidence of how desperately she ached for him caused his heart to soar. When he felt her orgasm, Greg watched her face as it happened and she pulled his cock into a vice grip, milking it deliciously until he spilled inside her. 

Molly pulled him down to her chest until their breathing returned to normal. She couldn’t believe that they had just done that, but as her body surrendered to the bliss of a post-coital haze, she couldn’t feel sorry for having done it. Not within the darkness of her bedroom, with the delicious pressure of Greg weighing her down. 

When he moved to get up, she pulled on his hand, and only let go when he smiled. Greg was glad she didn’t want him to leave, but she never did, her pleas for him to stay long buried within her gut and left unspoken. However tonight she couldn’t help but reach for him, too sensitive to be apart from him. He went to the bathroom and returned wordlessly with a hot, wet flannel, lovingly performing the chore of cleaning her, after he had cleaned himself. The intimacy of the action, and Greg’s delicate care of her made Molly blush but warmed her as well. Then he wordlessly discarded the used flannel, turned down the covers and pulled her into his embrace. The actions were familiar and if Molly closed her eyes, she could pretend that she had never left London at all, never had Stuart, and things weren’t so very different than the way they were before she had left. But the faint smell of baby powder and the edge of caution in Greg’s face as he pulled Molly delicately into his embrace, until she relaxed into his side, told a different story. They fell asleep together, and Molly wondered if this was all she would have of Greg in the future.

\----…----…----…----

When Greg woke up the next morning, it was early but Greta was already there for Stuart’s morning feeding. Molly was already ready for work and making breakfast. Upon seeing that Greg had spent the night and her widened eyes being the only indication, Greta excused a sleepy, well fed Stuart, who whined at being removed from his father’s company. 

Greg sat down at the table but realized at Molly’s annoyed glance that she didn’t want him there. 

“I think you should go Greg. I don‘t want to confuse Stuart.” Molly explained with her back turned. 

In the harsh light of the morning, everything was stark and clear, Molly realized she should have known better than to let her appetites for Greg get the better of her last night, but everything in her had ached for him to the point of distraction. Greg was everywhere in her life. She didn’t want to give into the impulse, and last night was a foolish reminder of why she shouldn’t. Greg was clearly seeing other people, but he wasn’t like other men that would try and take advantage simply because she was the mother of his child. So why had he let that happen last night? When she woke up this morning, she decided she would put a stop to it all before everything got more confused than they already were. It wasn’t fair for her or Stuart that Greg felt he could come by whenever he felt like it and play house while he was seeing other women as well. Greg slammed his hand on her kitchen table, making her jump. 

“What do want Molly?“ Greg demanded. He took care of Stuart and was a part of his son’s life. They just made love, fiercely, the night before. He wasn’t seeing anyone else, what more did she want? 

“I want you to leave and to stop torturing me. You don’t want this. Stop lying about things you’ve never said you wanted. I want you to stay out of my life. Come see Stuart and be a good father all you like. But stop pretending like this - us - means anything to you.” Molly had looked in time to see the hurt cloud over Greg’s features and the anger. He was practically shaking with it like he had been shaking from pleasure the night before. “I saw you with someone else at that restaurant. Don’t pretend I didn’t Greg, I’m not a fool. I think Stuart and I should move back to Hastings, get away from London. And you would do well to remember that I’m not some dish rag you can pick up and drop whenever you feel like it, whenever you want to play house, while you’re seeing other women, just because I’m the mother of one of your children. Now please go.” Molly pointed to her front door, hoping that this would get him to see, that he couldn’t treat her like this.

At the assassination of his character - that he could even conceive of the idea of treating any woman the way Molly described - Greg shook his head derisively, biting against his words, not letting himself say something he would regret and left. He didn’t even look towards the nursery when he heard Stuart crying. Let her be alone forever with his son, it wouldn’t be because of him. His heart, that had been so high the night before at being able to love her again, was now a lead weight in his chest. He loved her and she threw it back in his face. He was done making a fool of himself for Molly Hooper and was done letting himself hope for a happiness that clearly would never happen.

\----…----…----…----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, that was hot. Though I know you'll probably hate me for the end. She just doesn't want Greg to think he can have whatever she wants just because he's you know perfect. She's got so much pride, so stubborn. Foolish Molly! 
> 
> Let me know what you think, I'm dying to know. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	19. Force Fed Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Greg have had more than enough time to sort themselves out. 
> 
> When they fail to do admit they love each other, their friends decide to intervene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for another unintended hiatus, I was wondering whether or not to finish posting this. But I decided, what the hell. I enjoyed writing it and it's only fair you all see the end of this. I'm going to post the rest of this all in one shot, so keep reading. One more chapter and an epilogue left!
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _Six and a Half Months Old_ ]

\----…----…----…----

Greg hadn’t contacted anyone for days. In fact, Donovan had claimed it had been weeks. She lied and dodged the Chief Inspector but she was running out of options. She had waited until the very last second to involve the freak and John but she couldn’t stop herself any longer. She went over to Baker Street and informed them that he had been missing. That there hadn’t been a word from him in days, not matter how many texts she left, and his phone would ring out. At word that their friend was missing, Sherlock and John immediately burst into action around Donovan. John called, Sherlock called, even Mycroft called, eventually Greg must have shut off his phone since it finally rolled right over to voicemail. 

They all worried that something had happened to him. Something terrible. Mycroft had done his usual surveillance and interviewed Greta. The German woman had been stubborn until Mycroft threatened her employment with him or anyone else again. At that threat, the explanations came pouring out, she had explained in detail what she had heard from the nursery the last morning Greg had been over and he had been a frequent visitor until just recently, spent the night from her word. The woman continued to explain in gruesome detail the fight they had, and then things became a little bit clearer. The CCTV photos Anthea had given him proved Mycroft’s theory. Sherlock John and he went over to the Detective Inspector’s flat, worried at what condition they might find the man. John’s face was stuck in a sour grimace, and he was angry at both Molly and Greg at the ridiculousness of their actions. Sherlock was bouncing his foot with nerves, he worried for his mind palace and the state of his friends’ lives. His agitation condensed to the nervous action of his foot as he watched the annoyingly slow progression of the London traffic around them. If this situation got any worse it would be beyond fixing, and he had been so certain the couple would have been able to fix this themselves. According to Mycroft’s surveillance, Greg was last seen entering his flat with two large bags from a local liquor store and then never came out.

Sherlock picked the lock on Lestrade’s front door easily. With a confirming nod to his best friend and his brother, they entered the flat, not quite prepared for the maelstrom to be found within. The first thing the three men noticed was mess that covered the entire flat, but mostly had itself contained to the couch where the remains of what had been their friend Greg Lestrade moaned, turning over with an arm thrown over his head to block out the light flooding in from the large windows that covered one wall of his sitting room. Then they noticed the smell, desperately miserable with a side of unwashed sad. Sherlock and Mycroft shared a look with each other and with stern nods Mycroft left the two best friends to deal with the Detective Inspector, and, considering what relationship Mycroft had with not only Molly but her Nanny as well, Mycroft would see to Molly. There would be a car waiting for them when they were done cleaning, and then they would go to Molly’s flat so that the two men could then take Stuart. With a look between the two brothers, it was all arranged. 

Mycroft called Mike Stamford and instructed the man to give Molly the day off, explaining what had happened. That the couple needed a reconciliation but only at the intervention of their friends and family. To which Mycroft was lucky, the man didn’t need the situation explained to him. It was bad enough that Mycroft had needed to be called, Stamford was all too glad to hold down the fort at the morgue if it meant Molly would be happy again.

Sherlock and John rolled up their sleeves and set to work cleaning up the apartment. Before they would descend upon their friend. They cleaned up the take away containers in different stages of empty and half eaten states, both men shared a look as they saw how old most of the containers were, and how there weren’t as many as they expected since he had been holed up in his flat for two weeks. At some point, Lestrade had given up on eating entirely, and had soaked himself in alcohol to cover the pain. During their cleaning process, the very drunk man had gotten angry at their interfering with his finely procured mess, objecting to the noise, and threw a nearby empty whiskey bottle across the room, enjoying hearing it shatter. A few large shards of glass had narrowly missed cutting Sherlock when he had gotten too close to Lestrade in his cleaning. Sherlock watched painfully as John had put on his Captain Watson voice then and warned Lestrade against trying that again. If he did, John would make him regret it. He was there to help his friend, but he wouldn’t take that childish behavior from the man. From Sherlock he expected it, from Lestrade, he wouldn’t tolerate it. A look passed between the best friends as they continued their task. He was in much more pain than either man realized. 

Once the flat was clean they began cleaning Greg up. Sherlock and John noted first the smell emanating from him, but they didn’t say anything just moved in sync with one another. They carried the drunken slovenly man to the shower and began the process of washing him. Under the spray of the shower, Greg growled in frustration. He mumbled drunkenly that he didn’t want to be sober, about how Molly hated him. When the two friends inquired further, the man’s slurred voice shouted that she didn’t want anything to do with him, but he just wanted to marry her and live in that house with Stuart. At the mention of some house, both John and Sherlock shrugged, not asking about it. Once the shower cleared his head, Greg looked to his friends bleary eyed, and confessed the reason that had really encouraged his drunken bender. Told them in detail what Molly had said the morning after they had slept together and worse that Molly told him she was going to go back to Hastings. 

Neither Sherlock or John knew whether or not she would, but continued to help the man clean himself, making sure he was showered, shaved and dressed in clean pajamas and a t-shirt. John took care of the laundry around his bedroom, and helped Lestrade when he brought up some of the alcohol that hadn’t sat well. John patiently encouraged his friend into drinking several glasses of water and made the man take a couple of Paracetamol, using his Captain’s voice again to order the Detective Inspector to drink all of the water in front of him. His was well on his way to sobering up, but he didn’t like it. Sherlock was working in the kitchen on making the man a decent breakfast, even went out to Tesco’s to procure the items he would need to do it, knowing food would help with the hangover. He rarely cooked, and he never went out to Tesco’s both actions speaking of how worried he was for his friend, and he also made strong coffee, deducing that the man preferred that to help a hangover rather than gentle tea. 

By the time they left the flat, Greg was well on his way to being sober again, even sounded a great deal better. His supposed friends informed Greg that a well-muscled security guard paid for by Mycroft would keep him from going out to buy more whiskey. At the mention of whiskey, Greg looked green enough that they knew he wouldn’t try go out for more. It would be a while before he and whiskey would be on speaking terms again. They left the flat with a text to Mycroft, who responded that he had been successful as well. 

The couple had several chances to sort this out themselves and be grown up about it, now it was time for their friends to intervene. Sherlock and John only wondered who was luckier, Lestrade or Molly, since Lestrade had the services of them but Molly had to deal with help from Mycroft.

\----…----…----…----

Mycroft explained the situation to both Mary and Donovan and volunteered them into helping him muscle Molly into agreeing to go to Lestrade’s flat. They all agreed that Molly had more than enough time to fix this, but they were all done waiting for her, it was time to intervene. Donovan had joked in the car that she didn’t think this was quite necessary, but she didn’t understand the full magnitude of what had taken place between Detective Inspector and Pathologist, Mary and Mycroft shared a look and began to explain. 

Mary and the Freak’s brother were quick to bring the young sergeant up to speed, explaining what Molly had been doing in Hastings. She thought they were playing her, but her face dropped when she was met with two very serious faces. Now everything between the couple was making more sense. Donovan agreed with them, it was time to butt in. Mycroft relieved Greta for the day by mobile. When asked the reason why she was leaving when Molly hadn’t dismissed her, the German woman simply handed Stuart to his mother and walked out of the door. If things weren’t strange enough today, when Stamford told her not to come into work, Molly became immediately suspicious when both Mary and Donovan showed up at her door with an overly familiar black sedan behind them. Molly tried to fend them off as best as she could at their inquiries about how things were with Greg, neither woman accepting that this wasn’t their business anymore. It was affecting the lives of both their husband and boss. If Lestrade didn’t work, no one called Sherlock, no cases meant Sherlock became bored, and a bored Sherlock would thrust himself upon the Watsons. Mary felt she was definitely involved if for no other reason than she saw her own friend making herself miserable no matter how they encouraged her to put a stop to it. And that Mary couldn’t tolerate. Molly had tried to resist them urging her to go talk to Greg while Mary packed her an overnight bag, while Donovan kept her out of reach of Mary’s work and tried to convince the pathologist of what she had witnessed in her boss’s behavior. 

“All of a sudden I turn around and while you’ve been gone and making the boss miserable, you were in Hastings having his kid?!” Donovan looked to the adorable boy in shock. Mary was the one to explain that this was the reason Molly had left London, to have the child somewhere away from Greg so that he wouldn’t have known but found out anyway. It was all making awful sense to Donovan now and she couldn’t deny the familiar likeness to the silver haired man, to see before her basically a miniature boss. Stuart reached for the curly haired lady, thinking her halo of hair and ebony skin very pretty, and immediately pulled at the curls when she got close, wanting to keep the unfamiliar texture in his hand. He wanted to make a note of it, so that he could explain the interesting data he found to Uncle Sherlock. Molly apologized and they managed to get his little fists out of her hair. Donovan smiled at the young copy of her boss, shaking her head, reaching out to allow the little charmer to take her finger instead. “I mean really it’s no wonder he was so miserable at work. He had no idea, and then it just got worse when he found out you lied to him.” Donovan accused. Molly put Stuart onto his play matt where he stared at his agitated mother, sucking on his fist, while she began yelling at the nice lady and Auntie Mary. 

“Oh yeah, I’m sure it’s very easy to say that looking at it from his side.” Molly paced back and forth not liking what she thought the two women were planning to do. Apparently she wasn’t being given a choice in the matter, she was being made to go see Greg. She didn’t like it, and she didn’t want to go, didn’t want to see him. This was just getting to be too torturous. Hastings was looking more and more appealing by the second.

“It is, and you know why? He’s not the one that lied. He was lied to again! You weren’t there when he was going through the divorce, I was. You don’t remember what it was like, watching that bitch drag him back and forth, sleeping around behind his back, lying straight to his face instead of telling him the truth, making a fool out of him, until he finally had enough. To watch her pull him apart and demean him in front of the entire precinct at functions and leave miserable and alone when she would leave him there to take a cab by himself. I was the one picking up the pieces after she basically bled him dry, when all he wanted was to make a family with her, even after all the shite she put him through. But when he finally got together with you I thought things would be different. Wasn’t I surprised? You leave London just like that, no explanation not a word to anybody, most especially not to Lestrade who deserved the truth more than anybody else. Then you go and have a kid no one knew about?!” Donovan shook her head unbelieving that Molly was anything like Lestrade’s ex-wife but even more so that Greg would attach himself to such a woman again. “Did you know about this Mary?” Mary simply nodded, too angry with Molly to speak.

“You don’t know what happened between us. He obviously didn‘t care that much since he was seeing someone else!” Molly explained quietly. 

“Oh Molly…” Mary winced, having not known that. Donovan gave Mary a stern look, and she went back to packing Molly’s bag. The pathologist wasn’t going to be getting any sympathy from the two women before her. If it was true that he had been seeing other women, and Donovan knew to the soles of her feet that it wasn’t, then Molly had only herself to blame and only needed to look to herself to fix it. She could get him back, if only she said that she loved him as much as Donovan was positive he loved her. It was Mycroft’s turn now to set her straight, if Greg was cheating, he would know or he would correct her assumptions.

“You know what you’re right, I don’t know what happened between you two and it’s your business. But I think you deserve to give him the benefit of the doubt. He can say stupid things sometimes but there’s a good man at the heart of it. He’s a good boss, and the only time I’ve ever seen him happy was with you.” Donovan waved to Mary, who passed Donovan the bag and scooped Stuart up into her arms, and together the two women stood at the door, bag and baby in hand, and opened it showing two muscled men that meant business. “You can either go willingly or these two brutes will carry you to the car. The freak’s brother has things he wants to say to you too, he’ll be the one taking you to Lestrade’s.” Donovan held the door open waiting for Molly to walk through it. When she didn’t move a muscle, Donovan flicked her head in Molly’s direction letting the men know that it was their turn. The security guards came into the room and soon Molly found herself being forcibly removed from her flat kicking and screaming, trying to aim for anything that would encourage the men to drop her. 

Once inside the car, Molly watched as Sherlock got out of another black sedan and swept into her place and removed Stuart with Imogen in his other arm, it had taken a bit longer to convince Molly to go to Greg’s than it had taken to clean up Greg and his flat. Mary and Donovan watched as the car drove off hoping that this would finally fix whatever was broken between their best friend and boss. Before they joined the consulting detective and doctor for a somber ride back to Baker Street.

\----…----…----…----

John and Mary agreed to the day off, in light of all the upheaval that had occurred trying to get Molly and Greg back together. They also were thinking Stuart could use the distraction of playing with Imogen and sleeping over at Uncle Sherlock’s. And Sherlock was more than confident that he would be able to manage both of them together. Though he wondered if Mary and John were betting how long he would last before he invited them to come over. 

He found out that day that Grey’s Anatomy turned out to be a baby favorite, when there were babies at 221B. Stuart especially liked hearing the gruesome descriptions of the blood and how it pumped through a body. But once Sherlock moved on, the exciting reading had tuckered out the boy and soon he was asleep, Imogen followed, the soothing tones of her Uncle’s voice always did the trick.

After a nap, Sherlock had decided it was time for swashbuckling. Not before he helped the babies with swabbing the poop deck, which meant divesting them of their dirty nappies and exchanging them for fresh ones. Pirate Sherlock and his first mates were ready to do battle with the mighty kraken, which really was a large purple stuffed octopus. The booty they captured from another enemy ship was grog for the three mateys, a bottle of milk for each baby, and tea for their consulting Uncle. 

Both Imogen and Stuart enjoyed themselves, and had no idea that in the back of Sherlock’s mind, their Uncle had actually been quite nervous. The consulting detective put on a brave face. The outcome for Stuart’s parents was worryingly uncertain. And even he couldn’t deduce what it would be.

Little Imogen took note with a growing sign of intelligence and stored this unfamiliar face of her Uncle’s in her growing mind’s pirate ship. It was a small ramshackle thing to start with right now, but as she grew so would it. For now, she put this face under things Imogen knew she didn’t like. She put a hand to her Uncle’s cheek in recognition, hoping she could fix it. The smile she got from her Uncle was comforting enough for now. 

\----…----…----…----

Molly had sulked in the town car, on the opposite end from where Mycroft sat, watching the London streets go by. She wondered why they hadn’t yet came to Greg’s flat, she was intelligent enough to know that was where they were heading but they were in the wrong part of town. Still the car meandered aimlessly through the London streets, heading in no particular direction, giving Molly another reason to seethe. 

“Don’t worry my dear, as soon as you agree to listen to me and to actually speak to Lestrade, we’ll head in the direction of his flat. “ Mycroft announced in a droll sending Anthea texts with work to keep her occupied, so that she didn’t text him over and over asking if Molly had agreed to talk to Greg. 

“What makes you think I’ll listen to you? That I’ll listen to any of you? This is my life, I know what I’m doing!“ Molly argued. 

“Do you? Currently you’re a single mother struggling to make ends meet while you refuse the help and comfort of the father of your child, a man who loves you and wants to make a family with you. But you’re denying yourself that happiness out of some ridiculous sense of martyrdom.“ Mycroft pinched his brow at how ridiculous this all sounded. “You’re only happy when you’re beside Lestrade, who’s own happiness is by your side, and that’s who you should be with. He has proven himself a reliable partner and father on multiple occasions and yet you still refuse to see it. The solution to this is all rather obvious don’t you think? Be with him. Marry him, and get on with it so the rest of us can be at peace again.“ 

“He’s already moved on with someone else.“ Molly mumbled morosely. Ah. That explained some things for Mycroft. When he watched Molly’s shoulders shift with uncertainty at her own judgment, he wordlessly produced the evidence that he thought would get her to at least agree to see the man. Inside the folder was all the intelligence he gathered of the woman Greg had dined with, when Mycroft’s surveillance of the Detective Inspector had found out about it. Molly winced at seeing the surveillance photo of what she had seen that night, recalling the hurt she felt at seeing it in painful detail. Molly gasped when she saw who the woman was, and that he had went straight home alone after dining with her. 

“His ex-wife. You were right he had been out to dinner with her, and had seen her not only to talk about the children - there had been a problem with Matthew at school and Emma missed her papa - but also to ask for her advice about how to tell them about Stuart and how to get you back. That’s all it was, he was looking to his past errors to fix the ones he has made with you.” Mycroft explained as if it had all been in front of Molly the entire time. Obvious. There was plenty he hadn’t shown her but he was hoping that wouldn’t become necessary since she seemed to slowly be changing her mind. He didn’t want to spoil the surprise for Molly. 

They pulled up to Lestrade’s flat and Mycroft got out helping her into the building and into his door. Before Molly realized what had happened she was standing in the middle of Greg’s sitting room. With her overnight bag sitting beside her feet. She turned around just as Mycroft walked out and pounded on the door so she would get let out. When the door opened from the other side, Mycroft had been replaced by two hulking security guards. Molly slammed the door shut in anger. Damn that Mycroft and all of his high-handed meddling. Once she got out of this painful situation she would show him exactly what she thought of all his good intended help. She turned into the room and froze when she saw Greg stumbling, bleary eyed from his bedroom. The hungover man had wanted to stop whatever noise had woken him up from his much needed nap. The pounding of the door cause the pounding in his head and he had just wanted to stop whatever it was, he hadn’t expected Molly to be the cause. 

“What are you doing here?” Greg accused grouchily. He was in no mood to talk to _her_ at the moment, wondering if Molly was simply a vision meant to haunt him in his hangover. He was still hurt by what happened the morning after they had made love. Visions of it had haunted him since it happened, and he had drank to black out so it wouldn’t torture him. It wasn’t just fucking, well sometimes the love was fucking; raw, dirty, delicious sex, but with Molly it was never ever only that. Molly blushed, standing in her coat, awkwardly, in the middle of his sitting room. 

“I have no idea what I’m doing here. I was dragged here by your exceptionally loyal Sergeant and former friend of mine Sally Donovan, my turncoat best friend Mary, Mycroft and two of his black suited baboons.“ Molly looked down angrily at her feet with a blush, trying not to pay attention to the way Greg was running his eyes up and down her body like hands. She could leave at any moment, disappear like smoke, he was so used to grasping at any moment with her that he could. 

“Then why don’t you leave cause I’m bloody hung over and really in no mood.” Greg sat in his leather chair, legs spread, and the pajamas he wore did little to hide the fact that just her presence in the room gave him pleasure. 

“I would love to leave.” Molly sarcastically agreed and went to the door, opening it to show Greg the two men standing in front of his door. Greg let out a huff of a laugh, trying not to look sheepish under her angry glare. She swung the door shut and Greg held his head against the loud noise. “Apparently we’re supposed to talk and won’t be let out until we do so. So let’s talk.” Molly encouraged taking off her coat, hanging it on the hook next to his and laying her bag below it. She took off her shoes and stood in the middle of the room, too tense to take a seat. 

“You won’t listen to me. So what’s the point?” Greg leaned his head back against the back of his chair, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked at her through heavy-lidded eyes. Molly tried not to become overwhelmed by his heated gaze and Greg tried to pretend that he actually wanted to talk and didn’t want to everything else he could possibly think of to her. 

“Listen to what? We’ve been through all of this before. What do you have to say that I don’t already know?” Molly really wondered what the point was to all of this between them. She had already given up. 

“How about that I’m sorry.” Everyone felt that Greg was to blame for all of this, and so did Molly. He was more than willing to nail himself to his own cross. “Sorry for all the times I didn’t say something when I should have, and when I said the one thing that made you doubt me.” Molly hugged her arms around herself at the mention of that night, the night that had started it all and turned towards the windows that showed the sun was working its way towards it being evening, walking towards them so that she didn’t have to face the look in Greg’s eyes. But not matter how painful this was, Greg continued on. “I’m also sorry that I let Stuart come between us which I shouldn’t ever let happen.” Greg regretted many things, but that one he hated the most. If he was guilty of anything, it was that. He loved their son, but he knew just being there as Stuart’s father wasn’t enough, wasn’t all he needed to do in order to prove his love for Molly. But he had tried to use Stuart as a bargaining chip, to trap her into being with him, and it wasn’t right. What mattered right now, in the space of Lestrade’s flat was their love, their relationship, and not how they loved Stuart. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that it was your ex-wife in the restaurant that night?” Molly questioned miserably. It was the only thing that had stopped her from admitting to how she felt about him. Why had he never corrected her assumptions? 

“Would you have listened? When I tried to explain to you in Hastings how much I wanted you, you didn’t hear it.” Greg rumbled annoyed with how little she had let him explain anything over the past year.

“You’re right.” Molly concurred, looking at her reflection in the windows, miserable with herself. She had caused all of this pain she felt, all on her own. And now Greg hated her for it. She was the only one to blame for her own unhappiness. “I’m sorry.” Molly admitted that she had been wrong, so very wrong.

“I’m also sorry that I can’t help but love you desperately even though we’ve done everything to make me question that.” The creaking of Greg’s leather chair covered the quiet gasp that had fallen from Molly’s lips at Greg’s words. She couldn’t believe that it was possible he still felt this way, that her chance for love wasn’t lost. Greg stood to walk towards her when Molly spoke again. 

“You still love me?” Molly had mumbled so slightly that he had barely comprehended that she was asking him something dire. That she was opening herself up to what he had been trying to tell her all along. 

“Of course I do, I always have, practically since the first time we went on a date. I knew you were it for me, Molly, especially after you gave us Stuart. He’s apart of us. I love our son almost as much as I love you.” Greg wondered what to do with himself and rubbed at the sore muscles at the back of his neck that had tightened in his hangover. He heard sobbing coming from Molly’s direction and saw the love that laid deep within her when she turned around to face him, and the pain that showed after months of denying herself the freedom to show that love. Tears were rolling down her face as she blubbered. Greg had never seen a more beautiful vision in all of his life.

“I’m so-s-sorry too. P-please forgive me, Greg. I c-can’t go on like this without- ah- without y-you anymore.” Molly could barely speak as she sobbed, reaching out for him stumbling towards him, clumsily, trying to breathe around her tears with great hiccups. Greg crossed the space between them, crushing Molly’s small, shaking form to his own until her feet didn’t touch the ground. 

Greg felt all the tension within his body release as he brought his mouth down over Molly‘s covering her sobs with his blissful groans. He was awash with relief as they finally were together. Finally, Molly was home in his arms.

\----…----…----…----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you all think. I know the next bits will be kinda cheesy, but I'd rather not keep them separated. Although I could have, for years and drawn this out. But it's just not how the story happened in my head. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	20. Blissful Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Molly together, 
> 
> As they should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaand we've reached the last chapter, the happy ending. Just like I like it. One of these days I'll actually have to write a story that doesn't have one. One day I just might... 
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

\----…----…----…----

Sherlock groaned disgustedly at his phone, which brought his offense to the attention of Mary and John across the sitting room of 221B. He had lasted very well with Stuart and Imogen but John and Mary had come over to his flat completely of their own volition to spend time with the babies. 

“What is it, Sherlock?” Mary questioned, hoping it wasn’t bad news about Stuart’s Mummy and Daddy, who was currently bouncing in Mary’s lap, trying to get the attention of Imogen, who was playing peek-a-boo with her father. Sherlock stood and wordlessly deposited the phone into Mary’s hands, she looked at the picture, allowed John to look and gave it back to Sherlock, who tried to delete that image from his mind. Mary and John shared a warm, happy look, glad that all was right with the world once again. It was of Lestrade and Molly in an ardent, half-naked embrace on Lestrade‘s kitchen table, although Sherlock didn’t mention that the pictures Mycroft had been annoying him with were getting increasingly more graphic until Sherlock had to text him to stop. Once they did, Sherlock let John and Mary know that their friends had indeed made up and were well into a quite amicable reunion. Sherlock knew that this time, it would be permanent. 

He smiled, one of his rare, honest and open smiles, to his friends and the babies that had taken up space in all of their lives. This was happy ever after, for the consulting detective and his friends. A happy ending that Sherlock would have never deduced. But he had to admit most of the surprises of life were hardly ever deducible. 

\----…----…----…----

Once Greg had calmed Molly, he quite thoroughly and possessively made love to her throughout his whole flat. The whole experience left Molly awash with pleasure, she had come so many times she had lost count. Every piece of furniture was utilized and anointed with their love making. They didn’t stop until they finally crashed in a messy, divinely sated heap onto Greg’s bed tangled up in the sheets. This was where they were now just lazing in the post-coital haze that covered Molly like a blanket.

Greg wasn’t sleepy at all it seemed, like he usually would be, in fact he seemed quite busy. Molly smiled as Greg couldn’t stop kissing and biting her neck. Her nails scratching at his head made him growl and groan into her skin, giving her goose bumps. It was a self-exploding loop between them really, but it was quite decadent and very satisfying that Molly refused to stop it.

Molly only whined when he was in the process of sucking another love bite into her collarbone, of which there were already several. Molly felt as if he were trying to give her a necklace of them. Greg’s only reply was to laugh into her skin. “I’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.” Greg mumbled against her creamy white skin, one hand keeping her warmth close to him, his other hand playing with her long locks that were splayed out in a damp wave on the bed. 

Molly rolled her eyes, getting up and putting one of his dress shirts on. “You can make up for that later, I’m absolutely starving and have to get something to eat.” Molly tried to get up to get a take away menu so that they could order out. 

“I’ll give you something to eat.” Greg growled pulling her back into bed, loving the squeal Molly gave in reply. Not bothering with undoing the buttons and removing the shirt she was wearing, Greg covered her with his body, entering her possessively in one swift thrust that left her shivering. Swallowing her gasp of surprise with a smoldering kiss, Greg pulled away and watched the pleasure flit across Molly‘s face. His serious expression lit a flame that charged the atmosphere of the room with its sudden heat. “I want to do everything possible to make you pregnant again, Molly.” Lestrade grumbled with emotion as he began to thrust, giving into his instincts that were crying out for him to have his way with her. Sure it might have been a bit much, and a little bit overzealous of Lestrade, but he couldn’t contain the feelings that were swelling up inside his heart. He wanted to watch Molly grow and give birth to his children again and again and again, as many times as she would allow. He found her role as mother to his children, and her pregnancy to be more than a little arousing, and the thought of doing that to her again drove him into an animalistic frenzy. “You are mine, and I want everyone to see it.” His thrusts only became fiercer as Molly wrapped her sumptuous legs around him with a whimper, taking as much as he could give. Greg couldn’t even begin to think about how much he missed this. The welcoming warmth of her, the way Molly just seemed to take everything and give that much more back. There was nothing quite like sex with Molly, it defied everything else he had known before. It was utterly explosive, and Greg moaned into her skin against the feeling. Molly could do nothing except hang on. She came suddenly with a shout, her climax being ripped from her body but Lestrade didn’t stop. Greg growled when he heard Molly moaning in his ear, driving his lust higher. He could feel his climax approaching and reached down to flick at Molly’s clit bringing her to another explosion that compounded with the previous one with a sharp cry, sensitive to point of delicious pain. Greg answered her cry with a rumbled shout in kind as he spilled inside her. Stars blinding his vision from how hard she squeezed him through her climax and ran his hands up and down her quaking skin, loving the way she shuddered from the pleasure only he could give her. He didn’t stop his deep thrusts until they were just passed the point of painful, oversensitive. Greg collapsed on top of her, mouthing at her skin, and rolling over just enough so that she could catch her breath, keeping their legs threaded together. 

Molly whimpered as she came down from their pleasurable high, kissing Greg’s sweaty, soft, silver hair as the pleasure gave way to sobs. She was filled with such love and was so happy, she couldn’t understand why she couldn’t see that she could be this happy before while in Hastings, while she had been pushing him away. “I love you Greg. I’m so sorry- all I put us through… I just didn’t want to lose you. I was so stupid. I’m sorry. Please forgive me, I just wanted you to be happy.” Molly couldn’t stop saying it, repeating the apologies and admonishing herself over and over as she clung to Greg. She wanted Greg to forgive her, to know that she didn’t do all she did to hurt him but because she thought it had been the right thing to do for him. 

“It’s okay Molly, I love you. Its okay, we’re together now that’s all that matters. I love you so much.” He soothed, kissing away her tears, combing his fingers through her hair. When he tried to roll off her completely, Molly held on refusing to let him leave. She couldn’t be anywhere except right next to him, clinging to Greg’s form.

“Why? After all I did to you, to us, how could you still love me?” Molly questioned scratching her nails against his scalp, her honey brown eyes meeting his that were sparkling dark brown. The fondness of the look he was giving her should have told her. But all she could feel was the guilt of what she had done by pushing him away, and how through all of that the looks he gave her were as deep and filled with love as they were now.

“Because only you would try to convince yourself that it was better for _me_ that we weren’t together. You’d rather be miserable and alone if it meant that I was happy. But you wouldn’t listen when I tried to tell you that I was happy when you were happy and that we were both happy when we were together.” Lestrade laughed realizing how silly the past year had been, how silly his wonderful Molly was, and how happy he was now that they were finally together as they should be.

“I did that didn’t I?” Molly laughed looking to her lover sheepishly, and soon they were lost to giggles that bubbled into the air of the room. Greg laid on Molly’s chest with a sigh.

“Marry me, Molls.” Lestrade demanded jokingly, kissing the soft bosom his head was pillowed on. 

“Okay.” Molly smiled closing her eyes, running her fingers in his silver hair. He rumbled a sigh in bliss at the feeling until he realized what Molly had just agreed to, what she had said. 

“What? Really?” Greg questioned in shock, sitting up to look into Molly’s eyes. He never thought Molly would actually agree to it.

“Yes, Greg. I want to be with you, no one but you.” Molly giggled at the dopey expression on his face. Laughing into the kiss he reached down for. 

“Stay there.” Greg instructed as he went to get the box his ex-wife had encouraged him to purchase, which he hoped was where he hazily remembered putting it in the sitting room. Greg hadn’t believed it at the time but his ex-wife had suggested he go buy it, stunned that this day would actually come. She had known Greg would sort it all out. It cost plenty, but right now the uncertainty and the vain hope had been worth it. Now that Molly was ready to be with him.

“Greg! Where are you going?” Molly questioned annoyed that her sexy blanket was now walking naked through the flat where anyone could see, even though she enjoyed watching. Greg came back to the bedroom with a velvet box in his hand, as he pulled on a pair of pajamas pants. It wouldn’t do to propose with nothing on. When he got down on one knee next to the bed and opened the box, Molly gasped, swinging her legs onto the edge of the bed once she saw the ring. 

“Molly Hooper, I want no one else in my life but you. I know that I’m a bit of a tosser, drink too much sometimes, work too much, and I come with the added bonus of two kids and an ex-wife, but I’ve stuck around so far. I want to be with you, Stuart, and all the rest of the children we’re going to have for the rest of our lives. I love you, desperately. Would you please do me the honor of being my wife?” Greg looked up to Molly pleadingly, hoping that she would say yes. 

“Yes, Greg, I love you too.” Molly smiled reaching out to pull him into bed again. Greg landed on her with a grunt, laughing as he slid the ring onto her finger. It was a beautiful but simple ring and fit Molly’s finger perfectly. Just as Greg and Molly fit perfectly together.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know as always, my loyal readers, if you're enjoying this story at all... It's candy for the brain really. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


	21. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Molly are together and happy, but will his children be as happy with Greg's new wife?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

[ _One Year Later_ ]

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On the edge of London just where the sprawling city began, Molly and Greg found their dream house, with a decent backyard and enough room for the couple and their growing family. It was the house that both of them had dreamed about. When they had found out they had shared the same dream for the future they would be living together it had been another sign that this was all turning out as it should be. 

Greg watched from the sink in the kitchen as a now toddler sized Stuart was squealing and taking halting jaunts at a stumbling run around a very pregnant Molly. She was currently sitting, legs stretched out on the sun-warmed grass of their backyard, talking to Matt and Emma as they asked questions about their next new brother or sister. It was something to get used to, but they were happy that their father had found his happiness. Molly’s gentle, non-threatening ways went along way to mending the hurt feelings that had bubbled up inside Matthew at finding out his parents really were never getting back together, and that his father was starting a new family with a younger woman. She took great pains with him, in making friends and soon her warm ways had softened the rebellious angst that had burrowed itself in his gut. Emma liked Molly immediately when she realized that Molly came with the added bonus of a fluffy cat. Though Toby really questioned his familiar’s need for all of these new people around and why they had to leave their comfortable environs for this larger one. Though he had plenty of warm sunspots so really he couldn’t complain all that much. Greg was so very happy that Molly was expecting their second child and he hoped it was a girl. 

It had been a small celebration today but Lestrade didn’t know for what. He knew it was one year since he had proposed - which he had planned to celebrate later once they had put Stuart to bed - and only six months since they had married. It had been a small ceremony only with their family and friends, no one else. Molly was so beautiful that day, remembering her on that day was still one of Lestrade’s favorite memories. Sometimes he was so happy he had to remind himself it was all very real. He worried that he would wake up and find out that it was all a dream, that Molly and him were still apart and there was no way for him to fix it. But here he was, in love and happy. 

When he came back outside from the kitchen, Molly made her husband lift her and accepted his kiss before disappearing back into the house. Greg scooped an energetic Stuart into his arms, swinging the baby about, barking out a grumble of a laugh at his son’s giggles and his older children’s answering ones, as they waited for Molly to return. Greg answered his children’s questions as to why Molly had disappeared with his usual uninformed shrugs. Matt and Emma met each other’s eyes with equal rolls. Did their dad ever know what went on around him? They both often wondered at how he became a copper when he seemed oblivious to most things. 

When Molly came back out she brought with her a chocolate cake decorated with pink icing. “Surprise!” Molly smiled as Greg looked down and saw ‘ _it’s a girl_ ’ written across the chocolate frosting to celebrate. Matt took the cake from Molly, Emma took Stuart’s hand, and they watched as their father first kissed Molly’s stomach and then twirled Molly around kissing his wife. Molly giggled with pleasure, eyeing the affectionate eye rolls coming from her step-children as they watched their father embrace his wife. She was still shy at them seeing the open affection their father had for her, the relationship she had with them both was still new and she didn’t want to anger them. Matt reflected sadly that he had never seen such looks between his parents like that, and perhaps Molly was the person with whom his father was meant to be. He would always wonder why his mother had never been it, but knew that his father’s happiness was what mattered. And Molly was nice enough he supposed, gentle and quiet, respectful of his relationship with his father, he couldn’t hate her even if everything inside him wanted to, and so he gave in. It wouldn’t be so bad having more siblings, and Molly wasn’t awful like some of his friend’s step-parents could be. If this happiness between his father and his wife lasted, Matthew couldn’t really hate her. Emma was beyond ecstatic that she would now be an older sister to another girl. 

The couple soon remembered themselves and began the little celebration in anticipation of the new daughter they would soon be welcoming into their lives. Several months later, Molly would give birth to a beautiful baby girl by the name of Louise Marie. 

Molly and Greg would often reflect that it had taken them a long time to get to where they were, but that only made their happiness taste that much sweeter.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for staying with me through this story, and if you continue to stay with me through the rest of it. I appreciate your affection, and criticism, more than I can say. Without you all, I wouldn't have the impulse to put my fingers to the keys. Knowing you're there is always a great help to me. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the story, and look for more to come.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


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